


Do You Believe In Luck?

by Honestmouse



Series: Powers Universe [2]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cannon Typical Violence, Chapter Specific Warnings, Found Family, I promise, I'll update tags as I go, It's not all sad, Jet Star is non-binary!, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Binary Party Poison, Not In Chronological Order, Other, Refrences to Depression, Those Types of Things, Trans Kobra Kid (Danger Days), basically a magic au, but uses he/him pronouns, each chapter will have triggers listed in the summary!, illnees/injury, mostly slice of life, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestmouse/pseuds/Honestmouse
Summary: The Four are trying very hard to make sure The Girl grows up safe and happy.It's not an easy life, leading the rebellion and taking care of a young child. But they make due.And who knows if their powers are helping them or not, but at least they're having fun right?(Short ish oneshots about the fab four with powers)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days), Jet Star/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Series: Powers Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747024
Comments: 324
Kudos: 153





	1. Kobra and the Roof

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> So this is a sort of tag along to my other work. You don't have to read it to understand this one. But, I will say that the previous work in this series is full of headcannons and short one-shots in this universe so it will probably help you understand what's going on.  
> But, just for reference, here's the gist of it.  
> Party Poison can talk to/see the dead.  
> Fun Ghoul has the ability to transform into any animal that he wishes. (his favorite is a lizard!)  
> Kobra Kid has prophetic visions  
> Jet Star has healing abilities (as well as the ability to help someone fall asleep)  
> The Girl has (shaky) control over electrical things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> *mentions of wounds (nothing graphic)  
> *mentions of insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured a cute dabble would be a nice start to this!   
> A reminder that this is edited by me so if I've missed something, just let me know!   
> I hope you all enjoy!

Before the sun has even come up, Poison is awoken by a quick _patpatpat_ on their face.

They groan and curl unconsciously further into their blanket. Ghoul makes a displeased noise beside them and rolls over, digging his chin into their shoulder before seemingly falling back asleep.

“Party” whispers The Girl, apparently right by their face.

She taps their face again when they make no move to answer her. Poison lets out a frustrated sigh. Can’t they just sleep?

“ ‘s it?” they murmur, too stubborn to open their eyes just yet.

“ ‘arty!” The Girl says again, this time a little louder.

Then she puts her hands on their shoulders and shakes them.

“Fine,” they groan quickly, clumsily shaking off her hands. “Fine, I’m _up_. I’m up.”

The second Poison opens their eyes they’re met with The Girl’s face less than an inch away, watching them intently. It’s hard to really see her in the pre-dawn light but she doesn’t look upset or anything. Surely if something was wrong she’d be a bit more forceful about waking them. It’s happened plenty enough times by now.

And, clearly, she looks fine as far as they can tell. Maybe she’s just hungry?

“Party,” she says yet again, grabbing their arms and leaning back as if trying to pull them up.

Poison humors her and sits up, swiping their hair out of their eyes and straining to hear if anyone else is awake. Ghoul’s definitely asleep again, snoring rather loudly beside them, and they can hear Jet turn over on his mattress in the next room. Just barely, though the sound of the wind outside and the four year old giggling to herself about their bedhead, Poison can hear the radio. It sounds like it’s coming from the roof. Where Kobra probably is.

They should probably check on him, actually. Now that they think about it. They’d meant to before they’d gone to bed, but had been so tired that they forgot. 

Poison mentally scolds themself for forgetting. This is like… the fifth day in a row that Kobra hasn’t slept at all.

They lean over and pick the kid up, adjusting her on their hip before standing with a groan. The week- old laser burn on their side twinges with the strain and they curse lightly under their breath.

“You didn’t hear that,” they warn The Girl once they’re out of the bedroom and standing in the dining area.

Everything’s so quiet, so still right now that every breath Ghoul and Jet take feels loud against the seemingly endless whisper of such an early hour. And, now that they’re directly under where Kobra is sitting, Poison can just barely hear Cherri’s voice flow quietly through the radio’s speakers.

“I heard it” The Girl insists, giving them a look.

Poison knows for a fact that she’ll rat them out to Jet the second she gets the chance. The swear jar is nearly full and most of it is _their_ money, seeing as she always happens to be around when they curse and likes to tattle on them immediately. Little traitor. 

They tell her as such and she giggles before squirming her way out of their arms. 

She doesn’t like to be held as much anymore. And that’s something that Poison is trying very hard to respect. They know she’s growing up. That she’s almost five now, would be just starting school if she was in the City.

It feels like both an eternity since Ghoul brought her home, and a blink of an eye. But doesn’t every parent think that? That their kid is growing up too fast and how they wish that they’d slow down?

As much as Poison just wants to carry her around everywhere like they did when she was first brought into their lives, they know they have to respect her freedom and independence. Even if that means making sure they don’t baby her anymore.

(It’s worth it for those nights when she decides they’re still cool enough for her to snuggle up with when it’s freezing outside.)

“Wanna go check on Kobes with me?” they ask, putting a hand on their hip as she starts messing with something one of the guys left on the table.

“Yeah,” she agrees enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

She puts the thing- fucking hell is that a wire to one of Ghoul’s projects? They’re gonna kill him when he wakes up. He knows better than to leave that shit out. 

The Girl thankfully cooperates and, for the most part, Poison is able to seamlessly get her into her jacket and shoes. With the sun not up yet, it’s too cold for her to go outside without them. Though, she’s probably gonna kick off the shoes the second they turn their back.

Once they’re certain that she’s warm enough, Poison leads her out the front door, around the right side of the building to the stairs that lead up to the roof.

Well, to call them stairs would be an overstatement. The “stairs” are actually wooden crates and boxes that Ghoul reinforced before nailing them to the side of the building. But, it’s sturdy enough and Ghoul keeps a pretty good eye out for any repairs. So Poison tries to not worry about either of them falling. 

They succeed in only worrying a little as they follow The Girl up. Though Poison does make sure she’s in front so if she _does_ fall, they’ll be able to catch her. Hopefully.

Cherri’s broadcast gets more clear the closer they get to the top and Poison begins listening in. It’s no wonder why so many people tune in to his broadcasts. He just has a voice that’s so… comforting. 

It’s not monotone exactly, but it’s easy and soft as he reads random bits of poetry or passages from books. And it’s exactly what you need when the nights grow to be too much, too long. He’s company, another soul to fight off the loneliness. 

Poison can understand why Kobra listens to these broadcasts. In fact, they’re incredibly thankful for Cherri just being there. Keeping their brother company.

“Kobra,” The Girl exclaims as she makes it to the top, Poison only a step or two behind.

They’re on the last step when the roof of the diner comes into view. 

The Girl is already hugging Kobra, cuddling into his nest of blankets like this was her intention all long. Maybe it was.

Kobra, for his part, looks exhausted but otherwise alright. He offers Poison a short dip of his head in greeting but doesn’t make a sound. They’re still not sure how bad tonight is.

The Girl, either oblivious or plotting something, motions for Poison to come over and join their cuddle pile. Gladly, cross the roof and sink in on Kobra’s other side. 

He’s colder than he should be with all of these blankets, but Poison won’t mention it. They discreetly pull one a little higher up on him and lean ever so slightly against him. 

Their crew can’t afford anyone getting sick right now, but it’s also more than that. Poison hopes Kobra hasn’t been out here, been this cold, all night. It can’t be good for his health. Mental or physical.

“Can we watch th’ sun come up?” The Girl asks, craning her head back to look up at Kobra.

He blinks, as if coming out of a trance, but nods slowly. The Girl beams and pulls a blanket up to her chest.

Poison gazes out past the edge of the diner’s roof, past the scrap cars littered about out front, beyond the line of Joshua trees, out towards where the pavement of Guano meets the horizon. Most everything is bathed in shadows but, just on the ends of the earth, they can see the beginnings of the sunrise washing over the grey of the sky. Another half hour, maybe more, and the sun will be up and they’ll have to go inside before they die of heatstroke.

But, for now, Poison burrows a little more into the blankets as well. Their side hurts a bit from moving so much, like it’s been doing since they got hit. 

They ignore it. Instead, they try to figure out what’s going on in Kobra’s head.

He may be their brother but sometimes what’s in his head is a mystery to everyone but Kobra himself.

Trying to be inconspicuous, they give him a once over out of the corner of their eye. He’s definitely sleep deprived, they can tell from how dark the bags are under his eyes. How he gazes out at nothing for long moments before blinking and coming back to the present. 

Poison wants to ask what’s wrong. 

If it’s a vision, then they can work through it together. Figure out how probable it is, how to avoid it. It’s not an exact science but most of the really bad stuff he Sees can be easily thrown off course. 

Example A: Poison shouldn’t have gone on that run last week. Kobra told them not to, that he had a bad feeling. But they’re an idiot. And they all needed food. So, Poison went.

And they came back with a hole in their side.

They really should listen to Kobra more.

But would talking about what’s wrong, if it even _is_ a vision, help at all? Or would it just make things worse? There’s always a fine line there.

Some of the stuff he’s Seen… about them, it’s honestly jarring. To know that they're so many ways that they could die in a day. It’s terrifying and a part of them- a very selfish part- is glad that they don’t have to See it like Kobra does. Because it’s just torture at that point.

But, the larger part of them. The part of Poison that’s an older sibling who’s way over protective. That’s the part of them that knows the second the sunrise is over and they all go back inside, they’re going to try and talk to their brother. To figure out what’s wrong. 

He can’t go many more days without sleeping, not with how badly his visions affect him sometimes. Maybe they could even get Jet to look him over? Do the weird sleep-thing?

“Guys look!”

Poison follows The Girl’s finger to the first little sliver of orange sunrise streaking across the distant horizon. They let their worries float down. not forgotten, just postponed as they watch the sun burn a yellow/ orange streak through the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, I wanted to try having The Girl call Poison "Party". Just bc she's young and I dunno if she'd be able to say "Poison" as easily. Dunno how much I like it. So no promises on keeping it!
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think?


	2. Four teenagers trying to give a five year old an education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it goes about as well as you'd expect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! I asked which one-shot you guys wanted to see and this one won by like, 3 votes. (Which is a lot because 6 people voted)  
> The next one will be a really nice, angsty thing about Jet and the Girl bc it had the second highest vote count.  
> Huge thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for editing this one for me!! <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The Girl sits on the hood of the Trans-Am, a thick blanket spread over it to protect her from the blistering metal. Ghoul stands in front of her, a wide grin on his face as he enthusiastically talks to her.

“So, basic’lly, s’ long as the snake has real tiny eyes and don’t rattle, it won’t hurt you if ya don’t bother _it_ first.”

The Girl nods seriously, swinging her legs as she listens intently. Ghoul’s not quite sure how he’s managing to keep her attention for so long but he’s not gonna question it. This shit’s important and he’d rather not test whether or not Jet can heal a snake bite. Especially not on the kid, thank you very much. 

“Do a snake!” The Girl presses, leaning forward and putting her hands on her knees eagerly.

She’s a little young for all of this and Ghoul kinda hates that he has to teach her in the first place. But… despite the fact snakes aren’t Ghoul’s _favorite_ thing in the world, at least this way he can test and see how much of this lesson she’s actually retained. _Without_ the risk of her getting bitten if she gets it wrong. 

“Okay, kiddo,” Ghoul says with a wide grin, spreading his arms out like he’s about to take a bow.

He lets out a breath and wills himself into the form of a harmless blacksnake. He’s almost instantly uncomfortable because of how different the desert conditions are to this kind of snake’s natural environment, but it’s not unpleasant enough for him to want to turn back already.

Ghoul wiggles, or rather, slithers a little in the sand to try and find a cooler layer before looking up at The Girl as much as he can. He watches her mull it over for a second as she tries to decide whether or not he’s dangerous.

After a moment, she hops down from the car and slowly, cautiously steps forward. Once she’s a few steps away, she drops into a crawl with one arm extended like she’s letting him smell her.

Which, isn’t really the point but it’s the hesitation that counts. 

He slithers further, until the end of his snout is less than an inch from her outstretched fingers. He glances up at her, curious by how well she’s doing with such a possibly dangerous creature. Sure, Ghoul would never, ever hurt her. But to her he looks like a regular snake. There’s no way to tell him apart from a real one. 

But she doesn’t look afraid at all. If anything, she looks more excited than anything.

Ghoul flicks his tongue out, smelling her before slithering forward and beginning to wrap around her hand slowly. She doesn’t flinch or try and shake him off, so he takes that as a yes and begins to loosely wrap himself around her wrist and arm.

She giggles, as if it tickles, and sits back on her heels. Ghoul would be smiling if he could, just from the fact that she’s clearly listened to what he was trying to teach her.

And, so long as she remembers what she’s learned today, then she has no reason to fear any animal. That’s the most important thing he’s trying to teach her today. That most animals won’t actually hurt her and he wants her to remember _those_ , not the few that are dangerous.

He’s not quite sure why that feels so important. Why he needs her to leave today understanding that the whole world is _not_ evil. Sure, The City wants her dead probably. Wants them all dead. But Better Living doesn’t own the world, it just thinks that it does.

“Ghoul,” she laughs as she brings her other hand up so that she can gently pet the top of his head.

The pleasant feeling pries him from his thoughts and he pushes up into her touch as a silent ask for more pets.

“You feel weird,” she says under her breath, like it’s a secret.

And, well duh. ‘Course he feels weird, he’s got scales instead of skin.

Once he’s certain she’s used to him and understands that this kind of snake won’t be a threat, Ghoul slithers out of her hold and back onto the sand. She looks at him curiously as he shifts back to his normal form, enthralled by the change she’s watched him do more times than he can count.

“That was cool!” she tells him with an excited bounce.

He’s smiling as he rolls his shoulders and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yeah?” She nods eagerly.

“Wanna try another? Test ya again?”

“Yes! Imma get this one right too!”

Ghoul chuckles. “Okay, get ready.”

He takes another breath and shifts into something a little more dangerous. A rattlesnake.

Again, he would never hurt her. But he does rattle at her when she extends her arm out this time. Startled, she retracts her hand and steps back. Good.

“Bad one?” she asks, more wary than afraid.

Ghoul shifts back quickly, already smiling and nodding his head.

“Good job, shortstack. Tha’s a rattle. Don’t mess with ‘em. _Ever_.”

She nods seriously and Ghoul waits a beat before ruffling her hair. 

“C’mon, ‘m sure Jet’s got lunch ready for us,” he says gently, squatting down so she can climb up on his shoulders.

_____________________________________________________________

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Poison spits, chucking the can of spray paint away as hard as they can.

They press their hands on their hips and lean forward until their noise is almost touching the wall where their half-finished mural is painted. The line they were attempting to make is impossibly wobbly and crooked _and_ it’s totally obvious they fucked it up- and- mother _fuck_!

Scowling, they lift their right hand up to glare at it. Their features twist even more as they watch it shake like a fucking _leaf_ , no matter how hard they try and get it to stop. It’s fucking _bullshit_ and they hate it.

Their hand always shakes, it has for years now, but it’s just not always _this_ bad.

They’re not quite sure why they shake so much. But it’s probably a combination of quitting the City’s pills too fast and the lack of decent fucking food out here. So, in other words, _nothing_ that they have any say over. And that lack of control is what’s pissing them off so goddamn much.

Poison groans loudly in frustration, shoving their hand through their hair and tugging at the roots as they grumble angrily to themself.

Why _now_ of all days? 

Their hands were _fine_ yesterday. They barely fucking shook at all. But, of course, the _one_ day they had free to work on the mural on the side of the diner. Of _course_ their stupid fucking shakes had to show up today!

 _Fuck_!

“You good, kid?”

Poison startles and turns on their heel, hand automatically reaching for their blaster. They don’t draw it, especially not when they realize it’s just Maude. The freeloading spirit that thinks they’re the only motherfucker in the entire desert who can talk to her. Which is like- statistically really, really fuckin’ unlikely. But _whatever_.

They don’t have the time or the patience for her unwanted motherly advice today. _Thanks_.

“Fine,” they grit out, choosing to shove the hand previously reaching for their blaster into the pocket of their jacket.

Maude’s eyebrows raise and she gives them a look.

“Really?” she says incredulously.

She flickers and, on instinct, Poison automatically pools a little of their energy into keeping her here. They may be an asshole but they’re not about to let her waste all her strength as she tells them off for throwing a fit like a toddler. They have _some_ morals, okay?

She smiles at them and her form grows a little brighter, a little closer to physically here.

“Wanna tell me why you chucked the can?”

Poison follows her eyes to the abandoned can of spray paint laying in the sand a few feet away. It’s probably over-heating in the sun by now and they’re gonna have to clean all the sand and shit out of the nozzle if they wanna use it again for sure. Fuckin’ _great_.

“Wasn’t listenin’ ‘t me,” they reply, trying to sound like it’s no big deal.

‘Cause it’s _not_.

“Really?”

She gives them that damned look again, like a mom scolding her child. It almost pulls at something in Poison’s memory. Of their _real_ mom scolding them, back before she and their father were replaced with droids. It’s fuzzy but they’re pretty sure they were in trouble for stealing a candy bar. Sounds about right.

“Poison,” Maude chides gently. “What’s goin’ on?”

They sigh but can’t really see a point in drawing this out any longer. With a groan, they yank their hand out of their pocket and hold it up for her to see. It shakes so bad that they can’t even look at it. 

They itch to just fucking _grab_ it with the other hand, just to fucking make it _stop._

“Ah,” Maude says wisely. “Shakes bad today?”

They huff. “ _Yes_.”

“Well, why don’t you just work on your art tomorrow? It’ll probably be better by then.”

“But I have ‘t do it _today_ ,” they whine like a little kid. “Tomorrow we ‘av a run an’ I’ve been meanin’ ‘t finish this for _ages_.”

“Well, why don’t you do something else?”

Their confusion must be evident on their face because Maude rolls her eyes and gestures to the diner behind them.

“There’s a ton of stuff in there you could make art with. If it’s the outlet you’re craving. Why don’t you try helping Ghoul sew up your jeans or get Jet to show you how to cook dinner tonight.”

All of those things don’t sound _too_ bad but the stubborn part of them is still insisting that they wanted to paint today.

“Or,” Maude says with a smirk. “You could help the kid make something?”

Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Seeing as they’ve sorta been teaching The Girl a lot recently. It’s really just basic color theory and stuff like that, but every single kind of art is important out here. Crucial even. And Poison wants to make sure that she understands that. Because there’s a _reason_ the City regulates that shit so hard. It’s dangerous and free thinking, and _unique_. It’s every single thing they try to wipe clean from their citizens.

Poison can remember a time when they never knew color, never saw anything but greys and off whites. But the second they saw that first hint of color, _real_ color, it lit a spark in them. Led them to where they are now, one way or another.

So, of fucking _course_ they introduced art to The Girl the second she could hold a pencil. She started with old crayons they used a week's worth of gas money to buy, and she took to them so well that to this _day_ there’s still quite a few crayon drawings on the walls and on random surfaces throughout the diner. 

Right now, she has a preference for paint. For those bold, bright colors that draw your eye. She can use a paintbrush, or a spraycan, but she prefers her hands. And Poison has no intention of stopping her.

It may be messy and kind of shit, but it’s not the quality of what she makes that counts. It’s the fact that she created it, that it’s completely unique to her. The squiggles she draws came, uninhibited, from her mind.

And that’s something Better Living can never, ever take away from her.

“Yeah,” Poison says slowly, just now remembering that Maude’s been talking to them.

She gives them a knowing look, one that tells them she probably sent them on that internal rant on purpose, but fades away before they can say anything else. 

After she’s gone, they lean against the unpainted section of the outer wall until the dizziness that rushes them fades. How long have they been out here?

They squint up at the sky and try to figure out where the sun is without blinding themself. Their best guess makes it maybe an hour or so after lunch, meaning they’ve been out here for at _least_ a couple of hours. No wonder they feel more like shit than usual after talking to Maude.

Jet’s probably going to give them the heatstroke talk again before making them sit inside for the rest of the day too, for good measure. 

Their bad mood is already beginning to lift and Poison is smiling as they right themself before making their way back inside.

The diner is blissfully cool compared to the sweltering heat of outside and Poison embraces it gratefully. Kobra meets them before they’ve even made it past the booths beside the door and shoves a water bottle into their hands.

“Idiot,” he tells them, before turning around sharply and sprawling himself in a nearby booth.

He pulls out a Zine as Poison takes a long, slow drink of the water. It tastes amazing, even though it’s the treated shit, which further tells them that they’ve spent way too long out in the sun today.

Great.

Faintly, they can hear Jet and Ghoul in the kitchen as Jet goes on about some new radio segment and how it’s most definitely _not_ better than Doc’s. While Ghoul counters with the very convincing argument of, “Doc’s music fuckin’ _sucks_.”

They roll their eyes fondly but go over to where Kobra is sitting half in the booth, half on the table. He’s such a weird ass kid. But he’s also the most fun to annoy, so really he should be used to this by now. 

Poison drapes themself over his shoulders, leaning just enough of their weight onto him to be annoying, and breathing in his ear. He puts up with them for a solid thirty seconds before huffing and closing his Zine with more force than necessary.

“Can I _help_ you?” he groans, wiggling in an attempt to shake them off.

But they’re too heavy and they’ve got a good grip. He’d have to really try to get them off of him and he’s not quite that annoyed yet.

“ ‘eres th’ kid?”

Kobra shakes his shoulders harder, very nearly succeeding in throwing them off. But they manage to lean more of their weight on him and it’s enough for him to give up with a loud, dramatic sigh.

“ _Dunno_ , last I saw she was with Ghoul.”

Poison digs their chin into his shoulder, just for the hell of it.

“Ghoul’s in th’ kitchen.”

“Ugh,” Kobra groans. “Nap time maybe?”

Oh. Right. She’s almost always asleep right now because it’s like- the hottest part of the day and they don't want her to be moving around a lot and risk overheating. The Girl may be desert born but no one is immune to heatstroke, Jet’s right about that. 

“Thanks,” they say cheerily, planting a wet smooch on Kobra’ cheek and standing up.

He scowls at them and scrubs his face with the sleeve of his jacket, but there’s a hint of amusement in the smirk barely hidden on his face. So Poison knows they haven't annoyed him _that_ much.

They’re probably gonna find something _really_ nasty in their pillow tonight though. But they wouldn’t expect anything else.

Quietly, Poison sneaks down the hall to where the bedrooms are. They can hear the crew’s only electric fan running in Jet’s room so they slip inside and close the door silently behind them.

They sit down cross legged beside the mattress and lean over to gently shake The Girl’s shoulder.

“Babygirl,” they whisper quietly. 

She opens her eyes and yawns immediately. They give her a smile, barely visible in the near darkness of Jet’s room. The only light comes from the boarded up window where the wood doesn’t quite cover the whole thing.

This is the best room for naps, hands down. It’s somehow always a little cooler in here and Poison understands why The Girl seems to prefer it. Maybe they’ll hide in here later and catch a nap, seeing as they could probably use a few more hours.

“Wanna paint somethin’?” they ask cheerily, reaching out a hand to help her up.

“Yes!”

She stands up quickly and sheds the small blanket around her shoulders before twisting to turn off the fan. They then wrangle her into her shoes since they’re going outside and they don’t want the sand burning her feet, before taking her hand and leading her outside.

Most of their art stuff is kept in the shed to the left of the main building. It’s cooler there since it's sorta in the shade of the larger building, and there’s less chance of someone tripping over a can of spray paint and breaking their arm. Which _has_ happened. (It was Ghoul)

The sun is still blistering so in the short amount of time it takes Poison and The Girl make it to the shed, they’re already sweating again. You’d think they’d get used to heat like this, seeing as it’s basically a constant, but they don’t. It’s just as miserable as it was day one.

The Girl, however, doesn’t seem phased in the slightest. She bounces around energetically, grabbing a bottle of bright green paint and handing it to Poison for them to hold. She also picks up some blue and a nice neon pink that’d been hiding in an old baseball mitt.

They look down at the assortment of colors in their arms. These are the really expensive ones, the ones that Poison was almost afraid to open at first. In fact, they’ve only used these paints she’s chosen once before. That was when they all slapped their hand prints on the wall in the main dining area so they could claim it as theirs. 

And while Poison knows the kid is probably gonna waste more than she’s gonna paint with, they’re okay with it. Again, the whole point of this is to show her color and how to get her creativity out. So if things get messy- and slightly expensive- along the way, oh well.

“C’mon,” she urges, pulling on their elbow to guide them back outside.

They squint at how bright it is outside compared to the dimly lit shed but can’t complain long because the kid is already almost to the garage. Poison sighs but hurries to follow, they don’t like the idea of her in there without them. 

“Can I do it here?” she asks excitedly when they catch up, placing her palm on a blank space of concrete wall just inside the garage.

There’s tons of scrap pieces littered about everywhere in here, all in varying stages of repair and disintegration. The ‘AM is parked in it’s spot, on the right side of the garage and away from most of the more dangerous projects their crew is working on. And, thankfully, the safer side is where the kid wants to do her painting. 

“Sure, kiddo.”

She smiles and waits somewhat patiently as they open the bottle of blue first. They squirt some onto her hand and stand back to watch as she gets to work.

Mostly she’s just smearing it everywhere, coating the dirty concrete wall in the blue first before asking for the pink. It goes on like this for a while, The Girl asking for colors and Poison just standing there watching her.

It’s a couple hours later that she finally turns around and doesn’t ask for more color.

“Done,” she exclaims proudly, grinning wide and showing off her missing teeth.

She’s covered head to toe in paint and so is the floor of the garage. And their arm, somehow. They’re going to have a hell of a time cleaning all of this up but they can’t bring themself to be upset over it.

“Yeah?” Poison asks, walking closer and trying to see what she was going for. “ ‘s it?" 

She pushes them halfheartedly and points a green painted finger at the middle of the painting. 

“It’s a cactus, see?”

If they tilt their head, Poison can kinda see how that smudge of green on the wall might be a cactus, or even an oddly colored giraffe. But they nod like it makes perfect sense and ask her to explain the rest of it.

She takes their hand and points with her left to a smear of pink. “That’s you.”

Poison squints and tries to see how that in any way looks like them. They don’t see it but, again, they smile and tell her that it’s very good.

The point of her doing this isn’t so she can make “perfect” things first try. So they don’t feel bad for lying and saying that yes, absolutely that looks like Kobra eating a hotdog. Especially when she gives them that huge smile, the one where they can just see in her eyes how happy she is.

But they’re not lying when they tell her that they love it. Because they _do_. 

They’re going to remember this moment every time they look at this painting, remember how small her hand feels in theirs. 

How all it takes these days is a little quality time with the kid for their anger to just fade. When it used to take days and at _least_ one shouting match with Kobra before they even tried to cool down. Funny how times change.

___________________________________

Jet sits down beside The Girl, leaning with his back against the wall and his knees bent.

“Wanna try ‘n read somethin’ t’day?” 

She looks up from her robot and considers his offer for a second. He can tell she’s pretty busy, seeing as her robot appears to be fighting an army of tin cans, but he wants to ask anyway. Jet’s been trying to get her to practice reading as often as he can.

He knows that it’s not the most vital thing to know out here. Counting money is more of a needed skill, even though most ‘joys barter for what they need nowadays. But he wants her to have some hint of normalcy in her life. To be able to read comics with Kobra, or write poetry like Cherri. He doesn’t expect her to be perfect at it but just… figures it’d be a nice thing for her to know.

He can just vaguely remember his mother teaching him when he was small. That feeling of joy when he read on his own for the first time. The warmth of his mother’s praise. It’s something he doesn’t ever want to forget.

If he can help the kid have something close to a memory like that, then maybe it’ll all be worth it, you know?

And, for the most part, she seems to be enjoying learning just as much as he enjoys teaching her. Though, he won’t force her to study if she doesn’t want to.

“But-” she whines, making the robot kick one of the cans over. “Can I finish playin’ first?”

Jet laughs and ruffles her hair. “ ‘course kiddo. Find me when you’re done?”

As he stands to go back into the other room, he’s not even sure if she heard that last part. Oh well. Missing one day isn’t going to change that much.

Jet wanders into the kitchen and is just about to make himself something to eat- maybe even a sandwich since they went to the Market yesterday- when Ghoul slinks into the room. “Jet?” 

There’s something in his voice that makes Jet turn around. Something uncertain.

“Hm?” he asks, holding the peanut butter they found that was only like- a _month_! past its expiration date.

“ ‘re you ‘n the kid gonna read t’day?” Oh. Jet gets it now. 

He smiles and sets the peanut butter down on the counter.

“In a bit, she’s making th’ robot fight evil in the back room. Me ‘n you could read somethin’ while we’re waitin’, if you want?”

Ghoul’s eyes light up and Jet can barely suppress his smile.

For the most part, Ghoul never learned how to read. At least, he couldn’t read more than a couple of words until he started hanging around while Jet gave the kid her lessons. 

He’s a little behind the kid in terms of being able to read on his own, but Jet knows that’s not from lack of trying or motivation. There’s a word for it, one Jet can’t remember for the life of him. But Ghoul often flips or re-arranges his letters and words. It makes him read more slowly and have a harder time comprehending what he’s reading.

He knows it frustrates Ghoul, that a five year old is doing better than he is. But he’s honestly really proud of the hard work Ghoul’s put into making it _this_ far. The fact that Ghoul’s asking for a lesson in the first place is proof to Jet that he’s trying his hardest.

“Sure,” Ghoul answers, nonchalant like he’s not all but vibrating with excitement.

So, once Jet makes his sandwich and runs to grab one of the books he’s been using to teach them, he settles in a shady spot just outside. Ghoul plops down beside him, legs crossed and a wire already being fiddled with in his hand so he can concentrate.

The book they usually read from is nothing special, it’s not like the fancy ghost talking powers one that Poison has. It’s just an old, pre-war, blue storybook, full of short stories about fairy tales. The cover is peeling and faded in places but, for the most part, the illustrations and words inside are intact.

Jet opens it to Ghoul’s favorite story, “The Lion King”. It’s towards the end of the book and sort of difficult to learn to read with, but Ghoul, and the kid, seem to really love it.

“How’s this one?” Jet asks, even though he has read this one a trillion times before.

“ ‘s good.”

Jet nods, knowing Ghoul’s way more interested than he’s letting on. 

“Alright. Wanna start it? You read a page, I read one?”

Ghoul sits up a little more and Jet turns the book in his lap towards him so he can see it. There’s a pause but then Ghoul begins to read aloud slowly. 

“Every-everything in th’ an-animal kingdom?” When Jet nods in encouragement, Ghoul continues. “Kingdom has its place in th’ circle of life. When th’ Lion King…”

And so they go back and forth through the whole story. Really, it’s only 13 pages, but it takes the two of them the better part of an hour to get through. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with reading slowly. Jet has reassured Ghoul about that more times than he can count. Truthfully, he's barely able to contain his praise as Ghoul manages to read his parts with noticeable improvement from last time. 

“... and th’ new circle of life was be-begun,” Ghoul finishes, a soft smile pulling at his mouth.

He looks up at Jet and there’s a moment where Ghoul _doesn’t_ look like one of the faces of the rebellion anymore. Where he’s completely unrecognizable from the demolition expert who’s killed more ‘crows than almost anyone in their crew. He’s just a _kid_ , barely older than Kobra. A wide eyed kid who just did something he never thought he could do. 

It’s a far cry from how he was when Jet met him all those years ago.

“Hell yeah, dude,” Jet says, trying very hard to not get sappy with Ghoul.

He knows the kid will get embarrassed and probably shrug off any compliment or praise Jet gives him, but he can’t help wrapping an arm around his shoulder. And, for once, Ghoul doesn’t push him away. He leans into the touch until the front door opens and the kid comes barreling out.

“Jet,” she demands as she plops down on his other side. “Wanna read.”

He laughs and Ghoul pulls away so he can move the book around for her to pick a story. 

“Bambi!” she exclaims, pointing a finger to the cartoon deer on the page.

Jet nods and lets her hold the book. 

She can mostly read on her own, with Jet sitting in to occasionally help her with a bigger or more complicated word. Her and Ghoul really aren’t that far apart in terms of like- level or anything. It’s just that she’s more confident in it. Ghoul’s always a little hesitant, since he wasn’t exactly given the kind of encouragement The Girl has when he was her age.

“One beautiful spring morning,” the kid begins, holding the book to the side so Ghoul can see the page too. “ a little rabbit named Thumper…”

Ghoul follows along, mouthing the words as she reads them aloud. Honestly, having them learn together is making things much easier and Jet sort of wishes he’d thought of joint lessons much sooner. Not that he’d have been able to get Ghoul to sit in on these if he hadn’t wanted to in the first place.

By the time The Girl is done reading and after they both begged Jet to read “The Little Mermaid”, the sun is beginning to go down and the chill is starting to set in.

“Alright,” Jet says, closing the book as The Girl yawns. “I think we’re done for t’day.”

“Awwww.”

Jet rolls his eyes but lifts the kid onto his hip and carries her inside, Ghoul following right behind with the storybook in hand.

________________________________________

“Can ya hand me th’ screwdriver, babygirl?”

A second later The Girl passes Kobra the tool and leans over his shoulder to watch as he finally manages to get the back off of this old radio.

Poison found it the other day at the Market, only paid a carbon for it. It’s essentially junk, trash that they probably shouldn’t waste their money on. But, if Kobra can get it working again, it’ll come in handy as a backup radio. 

But that’s _if_ he can get it working.

Now that the back’s off, he can see that most of the wiring is shot and probably needs replacing. Which, isn’t all that complicated for him but the process is what’s gonna end up taking the most of his time.

“Okay, Girly,” He says, pointing to one of the components now visible. “That’s the battery. See how it’s all corroded and junk?”

She nods, attention solely on what he’s saying. Who knew tech talk would be the ticket to making her sit still?

“Can I see?” she asks, holding out her hand.

Kobra shrugs to himself and hands it over, seeing as the worst she can do is break it more. 

And besides, they fix stuff together all the time. Computers, radios, old bits of tech. Hell, he’s even started letting her help him hack the vending machines. She’s picked it up pretty easily and seems eager to learn so, maybe she’ll come up with a way to fix the radio that Kobra hasn’t thought of.

As she pushes buttons and wiggles the wires, Kobra carefully watches over. It’s mostly to make sure she doesn’t electrocute herself. Seeing as sometimes she’s a living battery and other times she makes things explode on accident more often than Ghoul does. (Those two are a dangerous duo, if you couldn’t tell)

He’d rather _not_ have to explain to Poison why the front end of the diner is blown up. Again.

“There,” The Girl says suddenly as she turns one final knob.

Music begins to spill from the speakers, easily recognizable as Doc’s station.

Kobra gapes. “How in th’ ever lovin’ _Hell_ ….?”

Because that radio needed _whole_ new batteries and wiring just a minute ago. And the kid took one _look_ at it and has it working perfectly?

Kobra’s life is freaky but not _this_ freaky.

“Swear jar,” The Girl singsongs smugly, pointing to the glass jar perched on a counter across the diner.

Kobra shakes his head and takes another look at the radio in her hands.

He can clearly see the busted up wires, can see the gross corrosion in the batteries. How in the _fuck_ is it playing right now?

Like, The Girl just giving it juice wouldn’t- _shouldn’t_ be enough to make it play. Especially not with the spotty signal in this part of the diner.

“How,” He asks, pointing to the radio incredulously. “How did you do that?”

She glances down, seemingly confused.

“I dunno. I wanted it to work and it just needed a nudge.”

That doesn’t answer his question, not even a little bit.

This was supposed to be him teaching _her_ how to fix a radio in case she was ever stranded with a broken one. It’s a skill that might come in handy one day, Witch forbid the Four won’t be there to protect her in the future. Kobra hates to think of that scenario but it’s more likely than not. Especially with how many times they face death in a single day.

Yet, apparently, she’s gonna be just fine. _Apparently_ she can just make it work because she wants it to.

Fuck, that’s weird.

But he’s not complaining. He knows better than to question shit like this. It’s right up there with how and why each of them have their powers. Or why they have the ones that they do. 

You just don’t doubt those kinds of things. The Witch, or whoever, gave them to them for a _reason_.

So, Kobra puts on a smile and pats The Girl’s arm. 

“Nice job, kiddo. You’re gonna be workin’ circles ‘round me yet.”

She laughs and sets the radio on the table. It continues to play as she runs off to go find one of the others. 

Kobra just sits there in the booth, unable to look away from the rusted radio on the table. 

If she can manage stuff like that… then who _knows_ what kind of major shit she’s going to be able to do one day.

A vision hits him out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of him like a harsh gust of wind. He gasps as the images flash quickly through his mind.

The Girl, standing alone. She’s older. Maybe his age now.

He watches her close her eyes and he can physically _feel_ the power she’s letting off, even though the image cuts out and all he can see is black.

The next image is of The Girl, a little older this time, leaning over a fallen rebel. They’re telling her to go, to leave them. Their hand shakes but her eyes are hard, determined. She won’t leave them.

And, just like that, the image fades and Kobra is thrust back into the present. 

He tilts forward, slumping against the table in front of him.

It takes a long moment for his head to stop spinning, for his thoughts to connect again. For him to make sense of what he’s witnessed.

The Girl is going to grow up. And she’s going to be strong. Stronger than Kobra can really comprehend. But she’s still going to be her. Kind yet stubborn as hell.

Somehow, Kobra gets the feeling that they’re going to learn more from her than she is from them. And maybe she’ll save all their asses one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this one! It was super fun to write and show how they can show her how to survive, but also how to have fun while doing so, ya know?  
> Also, that story book? I have the exact one. Its a Disney one my mom bought for me when I was born. I found it while packing and read some of the stories again and it inspired me to add it into this. So, those excerpts Ghoul and The Girl read are the actual lines from the book!  
> So yeah, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/ comments!  
> <3


	3. I'll keep you safe tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *blood/ injury (kinda graphic)  
> *violence  
> *references to alcoholism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eveninng everyone!  
> I wrote this while I was procrastinating on my main fic. So you get two updates for this series this week haha  
> A very big thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for all of her help with this one. I couldn't do it without her <3  
> Sorry in advance for this one, it's gonna be sad XD  
> Enjoy!
> 
> *chapter title is from Scarecrow by mcr*  
> Also, the power canceling cuff was inspired by @enbypartypoison and their superpowers au!

Lasers fly overhead, blistering the air around Jet Star and the others.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Poison kneeling on one knee as they shoot at the patrol of Dracs surrounding them. Kobra’s off somewhere to Jet’s right, hopefully still fighting strong. Ghoul’s over the ridge, just out of sight. Wiring something or other to blow up when Poison gives the signal.

The Girl, barely two-years old and absolutely terrified, has her arms wrapped around Jet’s knees. He can’t really move like this, can’t run if a Drac tries to corner him. But the toddler clinging to him is a bigger priority. He’d rather her be here with him, than risk her getting hurt by leaving her in the car or something.

Jet shoots slowly, with a calculated ease that comes from doing this so often. He’s afraid, like he always is in claps, but it’s easy to let the adrenaline push that fear down. He can’t afford to mess this up. His crew’s lives are on the line. The Girl’s life is on the line. 

He hears Poison shout and turns his head away from the Drac he’s shooting at as much as he dares. They’re whooping and the bodies of at least a dozen Dracs lay smoldering around them. Poison pumps their fist and, even through the distance, Jet can see the look of fiery rebellion that’s burning so bright in their eyes right now. 

He smiles and glances around to find Kobra again. He finds him shooting the last of the Dracs that’d been surrounding him. Kobra doesn’t holler or shout like Poison did, but even Jet can see the look of pride and relief on his face.

Looks like this one’s ending on a high note. 

There’s the sound of a car door slamming shut and Jet whips his head in the direction of the, _thought_ to be abandoned, patrol cars. He’s just in time to see one of the remaining Dracs carrying Ghoul over by the scruff of his neck. In the form of a desert fox, Ghoul struggles and growls viciously at the Drac. But Jet lets out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t see any burns or blood in Ghoul’s fur.

“Now,” Jet’s head snaps to the car door, his full attention again on the Drac who’d stepped out of it. 

“I believe I have something you want,” says the Drac who Jet assumes to be the leader of the patrol.

The Drac that’s holding Ghoul shakes him roughly, hard enough to earn a yip and a whimper. Jet’s hand twitches on his gun and he knows without looking that Poison and Kobra have moved right behind him.

“What ‘d you want?” Poison demands roughly.

They wouldn’t normally barter with Dracs but… well, they have _Ghoul_. Who knows what kind of sick experiments he’d be subjected to if the City were to get their grubby hands on him. 

No. Losing Ghoul is _not_ an option. 

Jet feels The Girl tighten her grip around his knees and he brings the hand not holding his gun down to ruffle her hair affectionately in an attempt to keep her calm.

“That,” the Drac spits in reply, pointing to Jet.

But wait. No. 

Jet glances down and then back at the Drac. It wasn't pointing at _him_.

It’s pointing at The Girl.

And oh, _hell_ no. _Fuck_ that.

“No deal. We ain’t tradin’ th’ kid,” Poison growls, stepping forward to stand beside Jet and hold their free hand out over The Girl.

The Drac doesn’t move but Ghoul’s still struggling, yipping every time he’s shaken like a fucking rag doll. Jet notices some kind of… cuff- thing on one of Ghoul’s paws. If that’s what he thinks it is, the City has blocked his power and he can’t change back.

Fuck. This just keeps getting worse.

“You must choose,” the first Drac says smoothly, only the barest hint towards the satisfaction it’s getting from this. “The beast or the brat.”

Jet snarls and aims his gun without thinking.

Ghoul is _not_ just some animal. He’s _human_ and he’s one of Jet’s best friends. The Dracs have to be out of their minds to assume he would think so low of Ghoul.

And the kid? She isn’t just some _kid_. 

Jet loves her more than almost anything. And the Drac must _know_ this. It must be why it’s making them choose. 

But fuck. How are they supposed to just _pick_?

Ghoul snarls suddenly, low and dangerous. Almost feral, like he really _is_ a wild animal. 

Jet can see the look in his eye, even from here. He’s about to do something either really dumb, or really smart. He just prays Poison and Kobra have noticed the look too, and are ready.

In the blink of an eye, Ghoul takes his chance. One second he is simply hanging limp in the Drac’s hold, as if he’s tired himself out by struggling, and by the next his sharp teeth are digging into the arm holding him. The Drac yells and then everything is suddenly happening all at once.

Jet watches as blood begins dripping down Ghoul’s snout. The sound of laser fire beginning again.

Then The Girl is yanked away from him, her hands grabbing desperately to his pants leg as the Drac pulls her. Jet shouts and then everything shifts. It’s as if he blinks and somehow The Girl is staring down the barrel of a raygun.

She’s too afraid to cry. Simply standing there as the Drac sneers at Jet like it’s won.

“Move and I will shoot.”

He can see Poison and Kobra helping Ghoul fight off the other Drac. But they're somehow too far away now.

His heart beats loudly in his chest and the whole world narrows down to the kid and the Drac threatening her life. She’s too young to survive a blast. There’s no way in hell Jet would be able to do anything. Especially not point blank. Not to the head.

And he doesn't know what to _do_. Isn’t sure how everything went so wrong, so fast. He can’t _breathe_.

“Hand him over and I won’t shoot her,” the Drac says calmly, like it’s offering him it’s last can of food.

And Jet knows he shouldn’t say no. If he does, then the fucker will pull the trigger. But how could he give up _Ghoul_?

How could he just let the Drac hurt the _kid_?

So, instead of answering, Jet decides to do something stupid. Something that is bound to get him killed. But if The Girl and Ghoul are okay- if he can give the others a chance to make it out of this fight alive then… well, fuck it.

He steps forward, holding up his raygun as if in surrender. The Drac squints at him, clearly not expecting him to do this since it wasn’t _his_ life up to barter. 

He continues walking until he’s right behind The Girl. She’s still frozen in shock but she does glance at Jet. She’s too young for this. Too young to be in the middle of a firefight. Too young to have a gun pointed at her head. 

But Jet can’t change what’s already happened. The only thing he can do is send a quiet, desperate prayer to the Witch, begging her to watch over him and his crew. Keep them safe if he can’t.

He looks the Drac dead in the eye and aims his blaster at it’s head. He doesn’t have time to pull the trigger.

It shoots first.

But, somehow, Jet gets between it and The Girl.

He’s staring, mouth open at the Drac, watching it smirk as his eyes follow it’s arm down to the blaster pressed into his stomach. 

And then the Drac shoots him again. This time, he feels it. Pain explodes through his middle and suddenly he can’t breathe.

A bright flash takes over his vision and the Drac falls, a smoldering hole in it’s head.

He hears shouting as his knees give out and he hits the sand with a grunt. Colors mix blurrily in his vision as he desperately tries to look around. He can hear someone calling his name. 

He shakes his head and blinks hard, fighting against the hands suddenly all over him. Don’t they know that The Girl was almost just _shot_? Their _toddler_! 

Fuck. Is she okay? 

God, Jet needs to make sure she’s okay. Because that Drac had it’s fucking _gun_ pointed at her and-

“Fuck Jet, _no_.” 

He recognizes that voice as Poison, vaguely registers that it’s their hands pressing hard against his stomach. Probably trying to stop him from bleeding out. But everything is too muddled, his vision is blurring. Growing dark around the edges.

He can’t feel the pain anymore and he wonders briefly if this is what dying feels like. With everything just muting out into nothingness. Will the Witch be there?

In a last ditch effort to make sure The Girl is okay, Jet forces his eyes to focus. He scans past the blurry images of the rest of the Four, their faces twisted in pain and fear. He finds The Girl at his side, holding his hand in her tiny ones. She looks so scared and there are tears streaming down her face. 

It takes the last of his strength, but he manages to smile for her.

_________________________________________________________

Poison and Kobra work quickly, but carefully, as they maneuver Jet onto his mattress. The whole time Ghoul keeps pressure on the wound in his stomach and the Girl follows behind them, quiet and terrified.

They need to comfort her, long to pick her up and hold her close, but Poison _has_ to make sure Jet doesn’t fucking die on them first. He’s bled the whole way here and every time they try and take his pulse, it’s always weaker than the last. He’s fading right in their fucking _arms_.

They’re panicking, obviously. But it’s under the surface, pushed down by the fact that they _can’t_ panic right now. If they do, Jet _will_ die.

The problem is that they don’t know _shit_ about medicine, about healing. But they've watched Jet patch all of them up so many times that that has _bound_ to count for something, right? They pray that it does.

Once they get Jet laying down, Kobra puts his hands over Ghoul’s and applies more pressure to the wound. Jet doesn’t make a sound, or even flinch from the pain that that was sure to have caused him. Poison isn’t sure if he’s awake anymore, if he can even feel what’s going on.

“Go ‘t th’ kid,” Kobra says to Ghoul in a hoarse voice, nodding his head over to the toddler standing way too still in the doorway.

Ghoul looks like he’s about to protest, his mouth set in a grim line. The Drac’s blood is drying on his face and there’s a scorch mark peeking out on his collar bone. He looks like shit. Kobra’s right.

Ghoul probably needs to be checked for any major injuries next but for now, he can keep the kid company. Calm her down.

Wordlessly, Ghoul nods and lets Kobra takeover. He wipes his hands on his pants, smearing Jet’s blood over the already disgusting fabric. He then runs his sleeve over his mouth, getting most of the Drac’s blood off before stumbling over to the kid.

Poison watches as he crouches down to eye-level with her and opens his arms for her to climb up. Her lip wobbles and she shoves a thumb into her mouth, glancing over his shoulder to look at Poison. 

They nod, trying to look reassuring. To not let her realize that Jet’s… that there’s probably not a lot that they can do for him. Poison refuses to admit Jet may be dying. At least out loud.

They only turn away once she puts her arms around Ghoul’s neck and lets him lift her. She shoves her face in his shoulder and Poison can see that she’s crying even though they can’t hear the sound.

They have to force themself to look back down at Jet.

His face is twisted, even unconscious, like he’s in pain. His skin is so pale from how much blood he’s lost and Kobra’s hands are absolutely covered as he continues to try and stem the flow. 

Poison blanks on what the fuck they’re supposed to do in this sort of situation.

Jet can’t heal himself. It doesn’t _work_ like that and Poison doesn’t know how to do proper first aid because normally Jet can heal whoever’s hurt! 

“ _Poison_ ,” Kobra says sharply, pulling them from their internal panic. “First thing we gotta do is stop th’ bleedin’. Then we c’n worry about what comes next.”

The sureness in his voice is what gives Poison the strength to lean over and place their hands over Kobra’s. Blood soaks through the rag, already beginning to stain their hands. The sight alone makes their stomach churn violently.

_______________________________

Ghouls hands shake as he carefully runs a washcloth over The Girl’s face, wiping away the tears and dirt coating her skin. 

She’s quiet, almost too much so, as she sits on the bathroom sink to let him work. There’s a scrape on her hand that Ghoul had to wash a couple times in order to get the sand out. That’d made her cry even more, even though it probably didn’t hurt that bad.

Truthfully, she looks more overwhelmed than anything else. Scared.

“There ya go, sweetie,” Ghoul says in a soft, but cheerful voice.

He’s not sure how convincing he sounds. Not when his head pounds from either fading adrenaline or from whatever the fuck was in that shackle-thing the Drac put on him to block his power. Thankfully, Poison blasted it off of him before he got _stuck_ like that, and now he only has a dark red burn on his wrist to remember it by.

But, as much as he wants to just shove his arm in bag of frozen peas or something and take a fucking _nap_. He can’t.

The Girl is too quiet and he gets the feeling that shock is the biggest factor in that. 

He’s not sure if she understands what happened, or if this is her processing it. But he’s honestly not sure what he’s supposed to say, let alone _do_.

How is he supposed to tell a _toddler_ that Poison and Kobra are in the other room trying to keep Jet from dying? 

Does The Girl know that Jet was shot _for_ her? That he took two fucking blasts to the gut for her and the chances of him dying are so high that Ghoul shouldn’t even tell her not to worry? He should just get it over with and have her say goodbye?

“Gh’l?” she murmurs, holding up her arms for him to pick her up. 

He sighs and lifts her carefully, wincing at the ache in his shoulder as he does so. Had he gotten hit too?

He doesn’t remember. Most of that fight after he got the shackle on him is a blur.

Slowly, making sure to whisper soothing words to her as he goes, Ghoul takes the kid over to a booth. He sits down and adjusts her so she’s in his lap and can rest her head on his chest. She buries her face in his shirt, tucking her arms in and letting him wrap her in a safe hug. 

He takes a shaky breath as the realization of what’s happened today sets in.

Better Living tried to take her. They wanted her and he was just a disposable mutt for them to throw around to try and get the others to make a choice.

It hurt. God it fucking _hurt_. 

That split fucking second where he thought for certain the others were going to hand him over. He’d been so afraid, so terrified of being thrown into one of those blindingly white vans and carted off to some lab deep inside of the City. Never to return.

Maybe the scariest part is that he wouldn’t have blamed the others if they’d taken that deal. Chosen the kid over him. 

He’s always been the stray, the kid people forgot about. The one people realize they didn’t need. At least, in the past. Before he became one of the four. One of _The Four_.

While staying with the others, Ghoul has slowly realized that maybe… maybe they _do_ care about him more than anyone else has.

And he knows that for a fact most of the time. But today it had just felt so certain that they were going to let him be taken to protect the kid. Because on no fucking planet was he worth more than her. 

He has more than his own fair share of blood on his hands, of destructive behaviors and death wishes. 

And yet, Jet hadn’t even _faltered_.

He had taken that blast for the kid without a second thought. Defended The Girl _and_ Ghoul with no hesitation. 

Ghoul’s struggling to wrap his head around that.

Because if Jet dies from this, it’s almost _Ghoul’s_ fault. The Girl couldn’t have fought back. She’s _two_. But Ghoul should have done more.

Exhaustion ends up weighing out on his spiraling thoughts and so Ghoul stays there in the booth, with the baby napping on his chest, until the sun sets. Until the diner grows chilly with nighttime air and Poison and Kobra finally step out into the dining area.

Ghoul sits upright so fast that he wakes the kid and she protests groggily as she tries to get comfortable again. He stands as Kobra slinks off- presumably to the roof- and Poison comes over. Adjusting The Girl so he has a better grip on her, Ghoul tries to read Poison’s expression to figure out if Jet’s gonna be okay or not.

He comes up with nothing.

Poison’s face is carefully blank, eyes heavy and hands still stained red.

“Jet?” Ghoul manages, eyes darting to the bedroom door. 

It’s closed and no sound comes from behind it. Not like he expects Jet to just be talking and laughing like normal after this but… if he’s okay then he should be making _some_ sort of sound, right?

“He’s… he’s breathin’ but…” 

They shake their head and Ghoul feels his heart drop down into his stomach. Poison won’t look at him.

“But _what_?” he demands, unsure why he needs Poison to say it so badly.

They look up at him, expression so broken and tired that he has to look away this time. 

But. If Jet is going to… to die, then Ghoul _needs_ Poison to just fucking tell him. He can’t stand this not knowing. It’s suffocating and Poison just needs to spit it the fuck out.

“If he makes it through t’night…” Poison begins in a hoarse whisper. “Then we’ll be in for a long recovery. But. Th’ chances of him actually _makin’_ it, Ghoul I-”

They cut themself off with something mixed between a gasp and a sob. Ghoul steps forward on instinct and pulls them against him, wrapping his free arm around them. All frustration gone in an instant and replaced with this horrible ache in his chest.

But he’s not mad at Poison. How could he be? 

He doesn’t blame them. Doesn’t blame anyone but the Drac who shot Jet. And… and maybe himself. But he’s sure as hell not going to say that at loud. 

After a few minutes tick by of him and Poison simply standing in the middle of the dinning area, the Girl wakes up and twists until she’s in Poison’s arms. She clings to their neck and they give her a kiss on her forehead, tears glistening in their eyes.

____________________________________

Ghoul sits cross-legged by Jet’s mattress, a Zine in his hand that he’s boredly flipping through.

It’s been four days now since Jet went down.

He hasn’t woken up yet, but he did make it through that first night. Much to everyone’s surprise.

They have barely been able to keep The Girl out of his room, honestly. She misses Jet a lot and while she doesn’t understand _everything_ that’s happened, she’s caught on enough to ask each of them if Jet is going to leave them.

It feels like a hole is being punched in his heart every time she looks up tearfully and asks when Jet’s going to leave. She doesn’t know the word for dead yet. But she understands ghosted. That when you’re ghosted you go to The Witch.

Ghoul has caught her praying to the Witch a few times over the past four days, her tiny face all scrunched up and hands folded in her lap. He can never hear what she’s saying and she always stops when one of them comes into the room, but it doesn’t take much to know she’s asking The Witch to look over Jet. Whether in this life or the next.

They’ve all refrained from giving her a definite answer, if Jet’s going to make it or not. If they tell her he’s going to be fine and then he takes a turn for the worse and- and fucking _dies_ in his sleep or something, she’ll _never_ forgive them. But they also can’t break her heart by telling her he’s going to die. So, all that’s left them with are half truths and little victories.

Telling her that Jet’s fever finally went down. That he’s breathing a little better. But then having to disappoint her by telling her that no, he hasn’t woken up yet.

It’s exhausting in the worst possible way and Ghoul just wants Jet back. Wants him to tell him off for skipping breakfast this morning because he’s been too sick to his stomach these past few days to even think of eating anything.

Even though Ghoul needs him, Jet’s biggest priority is keeping himself alive. And Ghoul understands that. Despite the fact that watching Jet lay here like this feels like it’s eating him alive.

________________________________________

Poison has The Girl on their hip and they hum softly to her as they carry her through the diner towards the little storage closet that functions as her room. It’s taken hours to get her to go to sleep and they’re trying to be as quiet as possible so they don’t wake her back up.

While they were trying to put her to sleep, Poison swears their heart broke every time she’d cry and say Jet’s name, lifting her hands towards his room desperately. She misses him. A lot.

And fuck. So do they.

Jet’s… Jet’s what keeps them all sane. He just knows shit. 

Knows how to fix a wound in no time at all, powers or not. Can make you feel like the world isn’t so bad when just minutes before you’d been convinced that it wasn’t worth it at _all_.

Jet’s a good friend but he’s _more_ than that. He’s like Poison’s older brother, someone they can always count on. They need him.

And Poison knows not having him here is hitting all of them hard.

Ghoul’s been more silent than Poison has seen him in a year. He’s not spoken a word since that first night, not even to the kid. It’s frightening, seeing him go nonverbal like this. 

And Kobra’s who fucking _knows_ where. Poison found him sleeping on the roof yesterday morning after he’d been gone for almost three days, drunk off his shit. They’d all but carried him inside and forced him into a booth (seeing as Jet’s taken over their shared mattress at the moment). 

But by this morning, Kobra was gone again. They have no clue where he is and he didn’t take his radio.

They’re supposed to be the leader, Poison defends to no one but themself as they gently place the baby in her crib. The crib that Jet built her when she outgrew the other one.

Poison might be the leader, the face or whatever, but _Jet_ is what keeps them all running. They’re hopeless without him and that realization terrifies Poison more than they like to admit.

____________________________________________

Jet wakes slowly, in drifting waves as the weight of the darkness around him fades.

He notices that he’s laying down first. That there’s something soft covering him, keeping him warm. He’s also pretty sure wherever he is is dark but it’s so quiet that it’s impossible for him to fully get his bearings. But he’s too exhausted to complain about that.

Not quite ready to face the feat of opening his eyes, Jet tries to remember how he might have gotten here. 

If he’s honest, it kind of feels like he’s dead. With just him and his thoughts alone in the blackness.

But… that can’t be, right?

Shouldn’t The Witch be here? Wouldn’t She talk to him?

The last thing he remembers is…. A fight?

How well it was going. And then the Drac holding Ghoul up by his scruff, the feral panic in his friend’s eyes when he was treated like a bargaining chip. 

The Girl being demanded in exchange.

Then a flash?

A gun in The Girl’s face and then one in Jet’s stomach.

Was he shot?

He can’t remember. 

______________________________________

“Here,” Poison says softly, leaning over so The Girl can out stretch her hand and hold Jet’s. He’s not awake yet but, somehow, his condition has been improving.

The Girl has been crying for him, asking for him to hold her, so they’re trying this in hopes that it’ll help.

Poison knows she doesn’t understand, that she can’t wrap her head around what’s really happening. But she’s smart enough to understand that Jet’s hurt. That something’s wrong.

They’ve been trying to keep her out of the room as much as possible since the second they knew Jet wasn’t right at death’s door. If only to protect her from having to see someone she views as a father figure in such a bad shape. 

But, even though Kobra came back yesterday, she’s still so torn up over it that Poison can’t stand keeping her away any longer. They’d thought with having Kobra back home- and at least mostly sober- that it might feel close enough to normal that she’d be okay. They were wrong. She’d woken from her nap today crying Jet’s name.

So this is them trying to fix this, to help her at least a little.

The second she gets a grip on Jet’s hand, limp and pale enough to make Poison’s chest ache, she scrambles out of their arms. They were already kneeling so when she tumbles out and almost faceplants, she’s thankfully able to right herself without disaster.

With no pause she takes Jet's hand, holds it close to her chest, and rolls until she’s against his side with his arm around her. Poison’s breath catches at the sight.

She shouldn’t be strong enough to do that, to move the dead weight that Jet’s limbs are right now. But her eyes are closed tightly and her hands are gripping him so hard that Poison can’t bring themself to pull her away. 

It’s not like she could hurt him. Her feet don’t even go past his chest and the wound is wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, anyway.

Smiling for the first time in almost a week, Poison glances along Jet’s body.

He looks almost okay now. If he wasn’t so pale and the bandages weren’t visible underneath the thin blanket he’s covered with, you could almost assume he was just asleep.

Poison almost starts crying when they notice a smile on The Girl’s face. She’s been so upset recently and they were genuinely starting to worry about her. But she looks so happy right now. Like she’s in the safest place in the world.

And she _is_.

Jet proved that he’d do anything for her, even though there had never been an ounce of doubt.

Poison catches themself studying Jet’s face, at the messy array of hair tangled on his pillow. How his mouth is parted ever so slightly as he breathes. The way-

Movement catches their eye and they turn their head just in time to see his arm wrap a little more snug around the baby. She cuddles into his side happily and Poison looks hurriedly back to his face.

They watch his eyes flutter and then open.

___________________________________

Poison’s face crumples the second Jet opens his eyes. 

He watches so many emotions pass over their features at once that it’s impossible to tell them apart. But he recognizes relief clearly among that array. 

Jet also registers that the baby is busy trying to mold herself into his side and that Kobra and Ghoul are nowhere he can see them.

Poison shakes their head roughly and they wipe their eyes with their arm as if they’re angry at themself for crying. 

“You all there, Star?” they ask in a joking tone but their voice breaks on his name.

He remembers, vaguely, what happened. How he went down.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” he manages to croak.

Speaking and moving his arm around The Girl have taken more of his strength than they should have. He lets his eyes close and takes a few minutes to work up the ability to open them again, berating himself for being so weak. When he is at last able to pry them open again, Poison is busy putting their hand on his forehead. Like they’ve seen him to do them and the others so many times before. 

He doesn’t particularly feel like he’s had a fever, more so like he’s been made into some sort of human sized barbecue. But getting shot will do that to you, he reasons.

He’s been shot before of course, but this is as bad as he’s ever felt and just the _thought_ of sitting makes him more tired than he already is. 

How close had he gotten to being ghosted?

“Fuckin’ _hell_ , Star,” Poison says exasperatedly, running a hand through their hair once they’re satisfied with his temperature. “Scared th’ fuck outta us.”

“Sorry,” he whispers.

The Girl looks up at his voice and Jet’s heart constricts when he sees how fast her eyes fill with tears.

“Jet!” She exclaims, scrambling up and standing in the space where his arm was wrapped around her.

She puts her hands on either side of his face and grins at him, even though tears are running down her face. She looks so happy, so full of relief that Jet feels guilt begin to surface for scaring her so much. The poor kid probably doesn’t even fully understand what happened. 

“Jet!” she says again, quieter this time.

“She was so scared,” Poison provides gently, sitting back on their heels to let them have this moment.

He can’t miss the relief and happiness in their voice too, even though they’re trying so hard to be strong right now. He nods once to Poison in the hopes that they’ll understand that it’s okay that they were scared too.

Poison seems to understand what he’s saying and they dip their head in acceptance. Jet smiles softly and turns his attention back to the baby.

“That true, babygirl? Were you scared?” he asks, voice gruff and weak. 

She nods ever so slightly and looks away, embarrassed and sad again and- and _fuck_ Jet’s not having that. The Girl deserves the entire fucking _world_. 

If he had it his way she would never feel this kind of fear, this sort of sadness ever again. But he can’t promise such things. Not out here. Not with the life they have.

But he can comfort her. Can make sure she knows he’s not planning on leaving her anytime soon.

“Hey, ‘s okay if you ‘re scared.” The wide-eyed look she gives him melts his heart. “Yeah, there’s nothin’ wrong w’th that. But ‘m okay now. I promise.”

“R’lly?”

He smiles, breathless from the effort it’s taking to simply speak. But this is important. She has to know that he’s alright. It’s his fault she’s so upset.

“Yeah,” he whispers, choosing to lift his head until their foreheads are touching rather than try and keep speaking. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, like she’s done a million times before but Jet swears that it feels like the first.

He almost didn’t get this. He almost lost her and Ghoul in the course of one evening. They came so close to losing _everything_.

But they didn’t. Somehow. The details are too blurry and he’s not sure if it _was_ The Witch, if She pinched fate and made things work out alright, but Jet thanks her anyway.

He repeats the prayer over and over in his head, a hundred thank yous as he holds the baby close.

Jet’s soon taken from his thankful, yet exhausted, prayer by Poison gasping suddenly. Jet gets The Girl back on his side, one of her hands instantly fisted purposefully in his hair, and looks up at Poison in question.

“I need ‘t tell th’ oth’rs you’re up!” they exclaim, rushing to stand and hurry out of the room.

Jet looks down at the baby. 

“I’m never gonna here th’ end of this am I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least I"m not mean enough to Actually kill of a character, right? That's gotta count for something bc i know this one was angsty as hell.  
> But the girl learned young that the safety she feels with the four is something than can be taken away at any moment. It's a hard lesson, one that she probably shouldn't have to learn. But it helps her appreciate each moment she has with them.  
> So yeah, thoughts? Feel free to yell at me for being really, really mean to Jet in this one!


	4. Children That Could Talk About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let anyone tell you you're too old for toys. if it makes you happy then it doesn't matter. I'm almost 22 and I still hang onto my old toys from when I was younger bc just touching them makes me a little happier. Same with my stuffed animals. There is no age limit on these things. Society is lying to you.  
> And, to prove it, have a short thing with an adorable Kobra Kid.  
> <3 <3
> 
> *chapter title is from sing*

Poison pulls the curtain aside and steps into the dimly lit hallway. They let the curtain fall back into place in their doorway, leaving Ghoul still snoring on their mattress. 

They’d woken up just a few minutes ago, throat annoyingly dry and a dull ache behind their eyes. A sure sign they’d spent too much time in the sun yesterday with too little water. 

Quietly, so they don’t wake the others, Poison pads down the hallway towards the main part of the diner where the kitchen is. 

Normally, they’d feel guilty for drinking their good water without offering some to the others first. Especially since the treated kind _is_ drinkable. But the process they have to use to filter the rainwater they collect makes it really bitter and gross. So it’s drinkable but not very pleasant. 

Thankfully, the reason Poison spent so much of their day in the sun yesterday was because they’d gone to the Market. They ended up trading some of Kobra’s weird hack-y things for an entire trunkload of _real_ , clean water. It was expensive- considering Kobra spent at least two months on those things- but, honestly, Poison was sick of nearly puking every time they had a drink. And it was pretty obvious the others were getting sick of it too.

So, they reason to themself, it’s perfectly fine for them to have _one_ glass of the good shit. They were the one on the trip after all, carried it to the car and everything. And they were shot last month. So like. That counts right?

It doesn’t. If anything, Kobra should probably get the first glass because he was the one who made the shit they traded it for. Or jet. Because he just healed Ghoul after the idiot blew himself up again.

But, none of the others are awake and they do have enough this time. They’ll ration it of course but not so harshly that Poison having one glass is going to make that big of a deal.

With their sleep addled brain, that defense is good enough. Though, it is a little ridiculous that they have to justify drinking water that isn’t the color of actual rust- even _after_ they treat it.

A soft sound catches their ears and they pause midway to try and figure out where it came from. It happens again, just as soft.

It almost sounds like plastic clinking together. Like, the sound that most of the kid’s toys make. Which is odd because Poison can clearly remember Jet taking her back to his room before they all went to bed.

All of them but Kobra. But he’s on guard shift for the next couple of hours. Surely he’s not the one playing with toys. Right?

Frowning, Poison takes a silent step forward until they’re standing at the end of the hallway and using the corner of the wall as cover. Their eyes dart across the dark eating area, trying to discern if this is a threat or just Kobra passing the time until his shift is over.

Poison finds him sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, facing them but unable to see them. There’s something in his hands and he’s leaned over in careful concentration. 

Maybe he’s fixing a tech thing? Wouldn’t be the weirdest midnight activity they’ve caught him up to. 

But something tells them to stay hidden for a little while longer. So Poison waits with quiet breaths as their brother hums happily to himself.

Kobra shifts and moves the thing in his lap so that it stands in front of him. And Poison says _stands_ , because it’s not a tech thing he’s fiddling with. It’s the kid’s robot toy. 

They can tell Kobra’s moved the arms so they’re in a superhero pose, like the toy is going to start flying away. The realization of what they’re watching makes something warm settle over Poison and they smile as Kobra reaches for the toy again. 

They can’t see his face as he moves one of the arms but they can hear him talking quietly to himself. There’s a smile in his voice, even though they can’t make out the words. 

He looks so young, sitting on the floor like this. It’s so different from the side of Kobra that they see every day. The side of him that fights visions and nightmares, that mocks Korse straight to his face. This, right now, is something entirely different.

This is the Kobra that Poison barely remembers. From when they were kids, before they were noticeably different enough to be forced onto the City’s pills. When it was just them and their little brother, playing at the park by their house. Or Poison showing Kobra how to set up his action figures so they could pretend to have them fight. 

Of course, those action figures were Exterminators and the park was heavily surveillanced. But, back then, they hadn’t known any better.

They were young and naive, but, to an extent, they were happy.

Kobra leans forward and scoops up the robot, swooshing it in the air like it's flying. His face enters one of the few pale beams of moonlight filtering through the windows and Poison can finally see the smile that they knew would be on his face.

It’s small, just the barest turn of his lips, but for Kobra it’s as if he’s beaming from ear to ear like Ghoul does so often. 

Poison hasn’t seen him so happy, so completely at ease, since they were small. Younger than the girl. Back before they had to deal with getting shot at every day. Before there was a price on their heads. And, looking at Kobra now, you’d almost be able to think all of that was a dream. A horrible nightmare. 

That Kobra really was just the 16 year old kid that he is. And not a kid who’s killed Dracs and Exterminators since he was 9. Who hasn’t almost died more times that Poison can count.

“Poison?”

They turn around quickly, startled by the sudden voice behind them. But it’s just Jet, rubbing his eyes tiredly and giving them a confused glare that’s mostly out of sleepiness.

“What’re you doin’ up?” he whispers, scratching at the stubble on the side of his face.

Briefly Poison debates not telling Jet. 

Kobra like this is something rare. Hell, they didn’t even know this side of him _existed_ half an hour ago. But they find themself putting their finger to their lips to tell Jet to stay quiet.

They jerk their head in Kobra’s direction and, confused, Jet peaks out around the corner. His face is scrunched in mild confusion and interest, but Poison can tell the second he recognizes what Poison was watching.

The smile that spreads across his face as he watches Kobra is something they recognize well. There’s so much love in Jet’s eyes, so much so that it’s nearly brimming over. His smile is gentle and soft, as if he’s watching the most beautiful thing in the world.

Poison has never doubted that Jet loves their brother. Not when they can see it so clearly in moments like this one. Where Jet doesn’t even have to say a word but anyone who’s looking can tell that he’s falling in love with Kobra even more.

Poison stands there with Jet for a few more minutes, both of them just watching him play. Occasionally his voice will raise high enough for them to make out a word or two. It’s not until Kobra stands and places the robot back on the table- where Poison remembers the girl leaving it before they all went to bed- that Jet steps out from behind the wall.

Poison panics for a second, wondering what the _fuck_ Jet could be doing. If they let Kobra know they saw him in such a vulnerable moment he’ll never, _ever_ forgive them. 

They debate sprinting back into their room as Jet’s soft voice carries through the room.

“Hey.”

Kobra hums in response and somehow Poison knows Jet has wrapped his arms around their brother’s shoulders.

“How’s th’ watch goin’?” Jet asks, his voice barely loud enough for Poison to hear.

“Borin’.”

Jet laughs out a breath. “Tha’s good. Wanna wake up Ghoul? Almost his turn anyway.”

“But I’ve got ‘nother hour.”

“When's the last time you slept?” Jet counters and there’s a pause where Poison knows Kobra has nothing to argue. “ ‘sactly. C’mon.”

Poison then scrambles back down the hallway to their room as the quiet sound of Jet and Kobra’s footsteps make their way closer. They quickly lay back down beside Ghoul and try as hard as they can to look relaxed. The curtain rustles open a second later and Poison can tell that it’s Jet who enters the room.

“Ghoul,” he says in a loud whisper, shaking Ghoul’s shoulder hard enough to move Poison too. “Wake up.”

“ ‘s it?” Ghoul groans and burrows into Poison’s side, but Jet just shakes him again.

“Your shift, asshole. Get up.”

It takes some more prodding and a lot of cursing from Ghoul but, finally, he sits up. Poison cracks an eye open and watches Jet extend a hand to help Ghoul up. 

“Hate you,” he grumbles.

Jet just chuckles and herds him out of the room.

Poison lays there in the dark, listening to the sounds of Kobra finally laying down in the next room. He goes quiet after a little while, hopefully drifting off to sleep like they should be doing. But they can’t stop thinking about him and the toy.

Sure, they know that he never really got the chance to be a kid. And, for the most part, that’s a fact they’ve grown to accept. It was either grow up way too fast, or not grow up at all.

It seemed worth it at the time. When the two of them first got out, spent their first nights without the pills. That freedom was worth having to learn how to fire a raygun. Learning how to patch themselves up until they met Jet.

But now, after seeing Kobra tonight, Poison finds themself mourning what could have been. 

Maybe there’s a universe out there, somewhere, where Kobra doesn’t have to hide that side of him. The side that likes playing with toys. Or the side of him that gets so fascinated by the stars that he can get lost in staring at the night sky for hours.

Moments like that are so rare out here. Most of the time it’s either fight or die. There’s not much room for anything else.

They try. Try to save room for music and boardgames. For long drives with no reasoning other than feeling the wind in their faces. But it’s hard when two months ago the girl was taken. When they all got closer to being ghosted than they ever had before.

Absently, Poison runs their fingertips along the raised scarring on their neck and chin. It’s still new. Their voice is still scratchy from the damage. They still have the nightmares.

But seeing Kobra tonight also means that they lived. That they can have the opportunity to have moments like this. Where they can just be themselves. 

Where they can just live. Can hear Jet humming something to Kobra to help him sleep. How they know Kobra will never admit to playing with that robot.

But maybe that’s okay. 

If it means they’re alive, then that’s all that matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. This one is technically the latest in the timeline I have for this universe. It's After Sing.  
> I've been thinking about how that whole thing might play out for this. And, obviously, they're not dead. Bc i say so and Kobra saw it.  
> Soon I'm gonna probably start actually getting into the storyline of the girl getting taken and what happens from there. but, that's gonna be after I finish my main fic. So, a month or so? Maybe longer.  
> Please bare with me haha.  
> I hope you all enjoyed!


	5. The Only Hope For Me Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *mild talk of compound fractures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> The world is crazy right now so have a cute thing I wrote randomly. This was gonna be the beginning of that Cherri Cola thing I've been promising. But it evolved into this. Whatever this is haha  
> I hope you all enjoy!

The inside of the diner is sweltering. Poison swears that they’re about to melt into a puddle right here in the booth they’re sprawled out in. 

They’re only in a thin t-shirt, a raggedy old one that has more holes than it does thread count, and their boxers. Sweat feels like it’s pouring off of them in a river and they lazily fan themself with their left hand. 

To make things worse, they’re stuck inside for the foreseeable future. So they can’t even hope for a breeze. Or, at least, they’re inside until Jet decides that them walking around with a broken arm _isn’t_ going to kill them. But they’re not about to hold their breath on that one. Especially not since Jet was so clearly upset over the fact that he couldn’t completely heal the break.

He’d been able to knock Poison out long enough to get the bone back inside and to heal the hole that it’d come out of. But the bone itself just wouldn’t mend back together, no matter how hard Jet tried.

Poison scowls to themself and glances around the diner lazily. There’s a pyramid of empty food cans on one of the tables, for some reason and whoever stacked them- probably Kobra- didn’t clean them out. The heat makes the smell even _worse_ and Poison wrinkles their nose in disgust.

Nothing like rotting dog food in desert heat to make them sick to their stomach.

No one else is inside today, for obvious hotter than fuck reasons. So if they want to do something about the gross smell, they’re going to have to do it themself. Which is like- a _lot_ of effort. Especially one handed.

But if they strain they can hear Ghoul playing music in the garage and the sound of him and the Girl singing along loudly. The image brings a smile to their face despite their sour mood. Those two are chaotic on their own but complete disasters waiting to happen when they’re together. Poison loves them both so, so much. 

They sort of wanna go bother Ghoul for a bit. See what he’s working on and maybe steal some quality time with him. They haven't seen him since he kissed them goodbye this morning and they were still half asleep at the time.

A sneaky smile spreads on their face and Poison glances around for Jet or Kobra, just to be safe. They’ll both throw a fit if they’re seen going outside, since they’re supposed to be “taking it easy”. But, thankfully, neither are in sight so Poison clambers up and heads outside. 

It’s somehow even more hot out here and they frown against the instant headache that the sun gives them. But they push their bad mood aside and make their way over to the small shed by the back of the diner.

The music gets louder the closer they get and by the time they’re reaching for the door handle, Poison can hear every word. It sounds like Doc’s station, the beat loud and fast. The singer is screaming something about a car and the Girl can be heard mimicking the screaming guitars with her voice. 

They don't bother knocking, simply because there’s no way they’d hear them anyway. Poison opens the door and nearly goes deaf just from the wave of sound that hits them. 

The Girl is standing on a stool, arms in the air and mouth open as she belts out what might be lyrics. Ghoul’s hunched over something on his workbench but his foot is tapping wildly along to the beat.

The kid spots them first, a wide smile breaking out on her face as he hops down and runs towards them. Her arms wrap around their waist and Poison uses their good arm to embrace her back.

Ghoul finally looks over, purely on chance because there’s no way in hell he heard them come in, and he too breaks out into a smile. Though it quickly becomes a look of concern when he glances to the way they’re protecting their sore arm. They roll their eyes and mouth the words “I’m fine.” A moment later the Girl hurries off to mess with something across the shed- what looks to be a mass of old radio parts- as Ghoul turns down the radio. Poison shuffles over wordlessly. They’re _not_ looking forward to the lecture he's probably about to give them.

They get the concern and they do appreciate it. But they’ve had much worse injuries before. They all have. A simple broken arm doesn’t really feel all that significant when they’ve been shot up the chin. This is nothing in comparison.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” they prompt before Ghoul can ask them how they’re feeling.

He gives them a look, like he knows exactly what they’re doing, but humors them anyway. His arm wraps around their waist and he pulls them close to him as he waves a hand over his workbench.

“Fixin’ up a stronger radio. I really wanna see if I can get a single past the mountains this time, ya know? See if there’s other people out there.”

That’s been a goal of his for a while now. Or well- more like a hobby that he spends nearly every day working on. He’s made countless prototypes of radios and boosters that might be strong enough to blast a signal over the mountains out past the Radiation Belt. 

Poison doubts that such a thing exists, and believes even less that there might be people out that far. But Ghoul’s convinced that there are people out there, says he saw them himself when he was a kid. Back when he was traveling by himself. 

It might have been a hallucination, or a lonely child imagining people. But they’ve already had that argument, when Ghoul first became convinced he could build a radio that’d reach beyond the mountains. 

That was a few years ago now and, while Poison isn’t going to put all their stock into this ever actually working, it’s still really nice to hear Ghoul explain his modifications to the radio and his plans. He leans against them so easily, so naturally, that everything else just fades away.

They don’t know how long they stand there, just listening to Ghoul go through the details of his work, but eventually the Girl wanders over and perches her chin on the workbench.

“I’m hungry,” she states, pulling Poison from the moment and their thoughts.

Ghoul chuckles and leans over to ruffle her hair, succeeding in making her curls even messier.

“Tha’ so, shortstack?”

She huffs dramatically and crosses her arms over her chest. “ ‘m almost taller than _you_.”

Poison snorts and has to cover their mouth with their good hand to keep from full on laughing. 

“Devil child,” Ghoul retorts, jerking his chin up like he actually means it.

The Girl sticks her tongue out at him and marches out of the shed.

“20 carbons says she’s gonna run straight ‘t Jet ‘n tell ‘im you called her a name.”

Ghoul rolls his eyes but lets Poison lean a little more into his side. They’re starting to get tired, whether they are going to admit it or not, and they’re honestly thankful for his support. The weight of him against them is calming. It feels like home. 

“No point ‘n bettin’,” Ghoul counters as they walk towards the door. “She’s prob’bly already told ‘im.”

Poison hums and if they lean their head on his shoulder, despite the heat and the weird positioning, well they’re just going to blame their clinginess on their broken arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after Sing in this universe, but I made sure to not give away literally anything.Other than that they live. Which is obvious. Bc i refuse to admit that they died in the music videos haha  
> but yeah.  
> Also, I dunno why every chapter has to have something to do with someone getting hurt? like, i swear it's not intentional. I just feel like the killjoys get hurt so often out in the desert that it's just a part of life, ya know? It's a big deal yeah but there's almost always at least one person in a crew hurt in some way at any given time. I dunno. I'm really tired so if this isn't making any sense I'm sorry haha  
> Thanks for reading! If you want, I'd love to hear your thoughts down in the comments! <3


	6. Waffles?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *illness  
> *very vague mentions of addiction

Poison is having a great day.

Today’s their day off, which means they get to laze around the diner for the whole day while the other three go off on their monthly market trip with the Girl. They usually rotate everyone’s days off, making it one person’s per week. 

Poison has been planning this particular one for nearly a month now. They have some soda that they might have stolen from Tommy, but if he asks they just counted wrong when they were buying their other things. It’s labeled as cream soda, something they’ve never even heard of before, and it promises to be disgustingly sweet. Most importantly though, thanks to Ghoul fixing up their refrigerator, it'll be _cold_.

It’s no hotter than it usually is outside, but Poison grew up with air conditioning and cold water as things that were readily available. If there’s one thing they miss from the City- the _only_ thing that they miss- it’s air conditioning. 

But the diner is decently cool and they have their book in their lap as they wait on the soda to cool down. So it’s not like they’re horribly uncomfortable or anything. The peace and quiet is actually sorta nice. 

They read with slow, careful attention. They want to remember every word, to read between the lines rather than merely surface level. Sure, they’ve read this book before- twice, to be exact- but they need to understand it completely.

Their power, the way they can just see the dead when no-one else can, it’s something that both frustrates them and makes them insanely curious. If it didn’t take so much fucking _effort_ for them to do the smallest thing, then maybe Poison wouldn’t have to comb their way through this long ass book to try and keep from passing out every time they have a conversation with a spirit.

But the book _is_ helpful. It details numerous ways for them to use their power and they know now that they're capable of more than they ever thought they could be. Everything from simply discovering if there are spirits near them- something they're already pretty good at- to calling on a specific spirit by name, which isn't something they've tried. Hell, there’s even a part about telling the future using spirits as guides. But Poison stays clear of all things related to seeing the future. Their brother already has enough problems on his hands for Poison to just start loading more visions onto him. Their crew doesn't _need_ two people who can see the future, it’s as simple as that.

The page in front of them is stiff and new, the ink bright against the light page. It’s talking about how it’s possible for them to use their power to tell if someone is nearly dead, or if they're in the process of dying. Poison has experienced part of this and can still feel how the person’s energy simply fades out of their body until it forms a near-physical reputation of their soul. It’s a freaky feeling but also, kinda cool? In a morbid curiosity kinda way.

Hey, they see dead people. No one ever said they were normal.

Poison chews on the end of their fingernail and absently dangles their feet over the armrest of the chair they’re sprawled sideways in. Their eyes slowly rake across the page, taking in the words eagerly. 

They’re just about to get up and see if the soda is cold enough when the radio starts to life with a loud burst of static. Poison swears and clambers up to fetch the radio. They lean their hip against the kitchen counter and begin to mourn the loss of their relaxing day. There’s always something, isn’t there?

“Go for Poison,” they mumble, rolling their eyes and staring wistfully at the fridge beside them.

“Hey, it’s Jet. Are you busy?” 

Jet’s normal slow drawl is now hurried and almost… worried? 

Fuck, of course something would go wrong when they’re not there. If one of them is hurt they’re going to skin whoever’s responsible _themself_.

“What’s wrong?” Poison questions slowly, honestly afraid of the answer.

They’ve heard Jet tell them one of the others was hurt in like- every variation possible. It never gets any easier and even the minor things are enough to make Poison sick with worry.

“Nothin’s _wrong_ , ‘sactly. Doc called ‘n asked us ‘t do a check up on a friend but we’re too far out. Need _you_ ‘t go.”

Poison squints, even though Jet can’t see them.

“Who?”

Jet sighs on the other end and reluctantly tells them, “Cherri.”

Instantly Poison pulls a sharp breath in from their nose and groans out loud in annoyance. 

“I know,” Jet laments. “But Doc’s real worried, says he ain’t talked ‘t him in a few days. All you gotta do is swing by and make sure he’s alright.”

“ ‘m I gettin’ paid for it?”

“Poison,” Jet warns, not actually angry but definitely not putting up with any of their shit right now.

The bastard.

“ _Fine_ ,” they groan, rolling their eyes and trying to fit as much annoyance into their voice as possible. 

“Thank you. Radio back ‘t me once you figure out why ‘es gone silent.”

“Yeah, yeah. Old fart ‘s prob’bly just sleepin’ all day ‘n lost track of time.”

“Poison,” Jet warns more forcefully than before.

“ _Okay_. I’ll go ‘n check on ‘im and radio you back afterwards. But I better get ‘nother vacation day for this!”

Jet laughs at them before telling them to be safe and hanging up. Absolute asshole. Poison hates him. 

Well, they _don’t_ ,actually. But right now they’re feeling frustrated and dramatic enough to pretend that they do. 

Why do _they_ , of all people, have to go check on him. It’s not like Cherri isn’t old as literal fuck. He can take care of himself. Probably. Fuck, how is Poison supposed to help him if something _is_ wrong. It’s not like they know anything other than basic first aid and how to boil an egg if they’re _lucky_. The only way they’d be able to help him should something be wrong, is if he were already dead and, somehow, they don’t think their efforts will ease Doc’s worries all that much if that’s the case.

Ugh. Fuck their life.

Poison pushes themself off of the counter and snags the soda from the fridge for the drive over. They climb onto Kobra’s bike, since the others took the ‘AM to the Market, and pull on their Mousekat helmet. The thing is stupidly hot and is liable to give them heatstroke in hardly any time at all. But Cherri’s place is like, half an hour from here and they feel the need to be dramatic about this little errand. If they're going out over what is very likely going to be nothing, then they should at least look good while doing so, right?

Poison smirks as they rev the engine, just for the hell of it, and kicks the kickstand before speeding off.

_____________________________

They climb off the bike and pull their helmet from their head with a huff. Shaking out their hair and pulling a deep breath now that they can breathe in without the rebreather’s restriction, Poison scans Cherri’s house.

It’s more of a shack, really. Built from concrete back before the wars, with one singular window by the door that’s been cleared of glass and boarded up. Cherri’s truck sits to the building’s right and there’s no indication that he’s taken it anywhere anytime soon. And he wouldn’t just leave it here, right?

Either way, it looks like they’re going to have to knock. They _were_ sorta hoping he wouldn’t be home, so they wouldn’t have to actually talk to him, but luck apparently isn’t on their side. 

With each step they take their boots crunch in the dry, loose sand. A crow caws from somewhere nearby but far enough away for them to be unable to spot it. 

Once they’re at the door, Poison knocks sharply three times with their fist. No answer comes and they begin to wonder if Cherri won’t open the door because it’s so bright out. 

But they promised Jet they’d check in on him so they knock again, three beats in quick succession. This time, there’s a thump and the lock opens a moment later. The door swings open an inch and two exhausted brown eyes squint at them expectantly.

“Uh, Jet wanted me ‘t come ‘n check on ya,” they explain, trying their best to sound as uninterested as possible.

Even though now that they’re looking at him, Cherri doesn’t seem like his normal self. He appears to be leaning against the door and he takes long, slow blinks. They can’t see him very well because of the shadows he’s standing in, but something tells them that he’s not alright.

Furthering their suspicion, Cherri doesn’t answer them. He just squints again and opens the door ever so slightly.

“Can I come in?” Poison tries, dropping the fake annoyance in favor of trying to be nice.

“No.”

The door slams in their face and Poison stands there for a second trying to process that Cherri just _slammed_ the door in their _face_. What the actual _fuck_?

Like, yeah the two of them aren’t the best of friends or whatever, but he could have at least told them that he was fine before telling them to fuck off, right?

Scoffing, Poison turns on their heels and begins digging their portable radio from their pocket. They’ll tell Jet that Cherri is an asshole like usual and then go back to their day off. They work hard as fuck and they _deserve_ a day to rest and not get shot at for once. Or have doors slammed in their face when they’re just trying to be nice.

About halfway to the bike, a crash comes from inside Cherri’s house. Poison turns around on instinct and is walking through the door before they even register what they’re doing.

As their eyes adjust, Poison discovers Cherri in a heap on the floor by the couch. There’s a box of what looks to be radio parts scattered around him from when he must have dropped it as he fell. But what gets their attention is that he’s making no move to get back up. In fact, he’s not moving at all.

 _Jesus_. If he’s brained himself they’re not sure even Jet could help him. And, of course _they're_ going to be the one to have to make sure he’s still breathing, aren't they?

Poison huffs and crosses the room to crouch down beside Cherri. They hesitate a moment before placing their hand on his back. He’s laying facedown on the wooden floor, mouth parted and eyes closed gently, but his back raises in a shallow, raspy breath. It lifts Poison’s hand, confirming that he is, in fact, still breathing. 

Great. Now what?

Jet would probably do something medical, like move him so he can breathe more easily or check and make sure he didn’t give himself a concussion when he fell. But Poison’s much more worried about the intense heat that’s seeping through the back of Cherri’s shirt where their hand rests.

Is he sick?

They don’t really have all that much experience with fevers, other than the time-

No. Oh no no no no, _no_.

Of. Fucking. Course. The Zone flu has been going around again recently, praying on younger ‘joys and those fresh outta the City who don’t got any immune system built up yet. Their crew has thankfully managed to keep away from it so far but Poison damn near _lost_ Kobra to it when they first got out. 

All they can really remember is spending a week and a half by his side, struggling to keep him from burning alive with fever and spoon feeding him water when he got too weak to do it himself.

They are in absolutely no rush to repeat such an event _ever_ again.

But they can’t just _leave_ Cherri here. If this is the flu, he _needs_ their help and they’re already contaminated just from touching him. Should they leave now, before he’s better and before they can wait and see if they’re going to get sick, they could potentially pass it to one of the others.

Ghoul especially wouldn’t fair well if he caught it. He’s way too scrawny to fight it off. And Jet is by no means a miracle worker if the Girl were to get it. 

Fuck. It looks like it’s decided for them isn’t it?

Poison scoops Cherri up from under his arms and hauls him upright. He’s lighter than they were expecting but still very much a dead weight right now. His head lulls onto their shoulder and they have to gag and spit out some of his hair.

“Fuckin’ _hell_ Cher. Least ya could do ‘s help a little,” they complain as they attempt to drag him onto a nearby couch. “ ‘M doin’ all th’ work.”

Cherri, obviously, doesn’t answer and falls ungraciously down onto the ratty and stained couch. Poison sets their hands on their hips and stares down at him, attempting to figure out what would be best for them to do first.

Calling Jet and telling him is pretty high up on that list, seeing as he’s the one with all the knowledge about this sorta thing. And besides, he can probably walk Poison through what to do until either Cherri gets better or Jet can come heal him himself. 

Poison nods to themself and digs the radio out of their pocket, but, before they can even press the call button, it statics to life.

“Jet Star to Poison.”

Did Jet seriously call to _check up on them_? They are a grown ass adult, thank you very much. Seriously, they can handle a half hour drive to Cherri’s on their own. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

“Already missing me Star?” they ask, purposefully using the pet name just to annoy him.

Jet doesn’t _mind_ being called by his last name exactly, but it’s usually reserved for special moments. Like when he’s being comforted or something. 

Right now, it’s just annoying. Poison can practically _feel_ his eye roll through the radio. Good. Serves him right for checking up on them like they’re a child. 

“Not in the mood, Poison,” he groans, more annoyance than what they were going for in his voice. “Kid saw somethin’.”

Their breath catches and they wait for whatever bad omen Jet’s about to tell them. 

“Is he okay?” they press when Jet lets the air hang dead for nearly an entire minute.

“He’s fine. Ghoul and th’ Girl ‘re with ‘im in the car while I get th’ last of th’ shit we need. But it was about you and something to do with Cherri. He said it wasn’t all that clear. But that it was important. _Please_ tell me you’ve found ‘im and he’s okay.”

Poison glances to the shivering and feverish man laying on the couch next to them. 

“Define okay…”

“What happened,” Jet is quick to demand. 

They sigh and run a hand through their hair. “Dunno. When I got here ‘e was all sick lookin’ and he conked out on me ‘n won’t wake up.”

Jet curses and Poison bites back the pang of fear that arises from that. 

“What’re ‘is symptoms? Can you tell if ‘es hurt or jus’ sick?”

“Definitely sick. I ain’t got your high functionin’ healin’ skills or nothin’ but I think it might be the flu.”

Another long stream of curses spills from Jet’s end and Poison waits, still trying to be annoyed, for him to stop and just tell them what to do. They could already be on their way back home by now and now they _definitely_ need a day of kicking up their feet after all of this.

“Shit,” Jet says again. “Are you sure? ‘Cause if that’s what it is then you’re prob’bly already contaminated.”

Poison thinks back to the weeks of sitting by Kobra’s side. They’d still been going through withdrawals from the City’s pills as their baby brother fought for his life. He’d been like Cherri is now, confused and with too high of a fever, right before shit really started to get bad. 

“Yeah,” they answer solemnly. “Positive.”

“Shit, okay. I had it when I was a kid but I’m gonna ‘av t’ drop th’ other three off at th’ diner before I come over. I don’t wanna risk ‘em getting sick.”

Poison doesn’t bring up that Kobra can’t catch it again. They’d rather him be safer than necessary, anyway. Anything to not have to relive that again. 

“So,” Jet continues. “We’re almost done here. It'll be a couple ‘f hours at most ‘till I can get to ya. For now, you need ‘t get his fever down. Or at th’ very least keep it where it is so he doesn’t get worse.”

“How do I do that?”

With Kobra they’d just piled blankets on him and used the only water they had to wipe his forehead every so often. They’re almost positive there’s a better way, seeing as they weren’t all that much help with their brother. He did most of the work. All they did was worry.

“He’s got a fridge, right? So something in there would work. The colder the better. But make sure ‘t not put anything too cold against his bare skin. If he wakes up try ‘n get some water in him but other than that, just wait for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Poison tells Jet to hurry absently, their head too busy trying to remember the instructions he’s just given them. They turn the radio off and slide it back into their pocket. 

They give themself exactly one minute to freak out, since no one is here to see them do so, before striding over to the fridge with purpose.

Cherri’s fridge is tucked into the corner of the room, stacked boxes sit neatly on top and there’s an old polaroid taped to the door. A smiling ‘joy with bright green hair waves at the camera enthusiastically and Poison can just make out Cherri stepping out of frame. He has a wide smile and looks years younger. Most noticeably, there are no scars covering him from his time Waveriding. 

Poison wants to know when this was taken, why, and who the green haired person was. Call them nosy. But even they know better than to press on such things. Cherri’s very much a closed book. He wouldn’t tell them even if they asked. 

They pry their eyes away from the picture and open the fridge door quickly. Inside is mostly bare, save for an open can of soda and a bottle of ketchup. Neither of those seem like good things to try and cool Cherri down, so Poison opens the freezer door as well.

They spot a can of juice concentrate and a box of waffles. The most pressing thing is though, that the freezer is not frozen. And that’s like, the whole point of a freezer, isn’t it? 

When they pull out the box of waffles curiously, they find it to be at least a little colder than the things in the fridge. So they guess it’ll have to do. Even though they’re far from frozen.

Poison hurries back to Cherri and pauses as they try and figure out the best way for them to do this. Should they use one waffle at a time and place it on his forehead or something? That seemed to be the best place when Kobra was sick. But Cherri is much older than Kobra was and Poison is still just as clueless.

Ultimately, they decide that just placing the waffles around him should be the best option. Because they’ll likely stay cold long enough for Jet to get here and with more cold on him, Cherri should cool down faster. Right?

It makes sense to them, so they busy themself with setting the individually wrapped waffles at random places along his body. They put one on his lower stomach, on top of his shirt. And another against each of his sides, followed by the final one held on his forehead with their hand.

They feel, and look, ridiculous. Thank the Witch only Jet is gonna see them sitting here holding waffles to the skin of someone they barely even like.

Now, don’t get them wrong, Cherri’s gotten them out of some tight spaces before. There was a clap a month or so ago that the Four and Cherri got caught in. He ended up shielding Poison from a blast that would have gone right through their chest if he hadn’t been there. 

They owe him their life. 

And Cherri also talks to Kobra about shit that Poison doesn’t understand. To them gender is just, bleh. A free for all, if you will. Where they honestly don’t give a fuck what they look like or wear because they’re just _not_ a guy or a girl. But to Kobra it matters and they’ve tried to understand, to help him, but they know that Cherri understands better because he gets it first hand. It’s made him and Kobra insanely close and if their brother wasn’t with Jet, they bet that it would have been Cherri. 

Truthfully, they’re not sure _why_ they and Cherri just don’t click like the others do. 

Sure, half of it is just playful bantering on both sides, with Cherri calling them a baby when they throw a fit over something stupid and then them calling him older than dirt. It’s fun. But it’s also different than how they bicker with Kobra over stupid shit.

Hell, maybe it’s jealousy. They’re full of themself enough for it to be something like that. Because, seriously, why does Cherri get to be a better friend to their brother than they do? It’s bullshit if you ask them.

Kobra only got out of the City because of _them_. Well, actually… the two of them only got out because Kobra had to literally _drag_ their sorry ass out. But still! They’re the reason he’s here in the first place. 

And they know he loves them, obviously he does or he wouldn’t put up with them, but it just sorta… hurts that he chooses to go to Cherri with things that he could go to them for too. 

It’s almost like they failed him in a way. They told themself to always be there for him, since they were such a mess back in the City. And they’ve kept to that promise, making sure the dumbfuck eats and doesn’t try and break the speed of sound on his barely held together bike. 

Poison sighs to themself and blows a strand of hair out of their face. They’re thinking too much. They need to just focus on Cherri and not go full crisis mode while they’re trying to save his life. Mostly they’re just pissy from worry that they’ll never admit to having outloud. But they can acknowledge that to themself, and so they shake their head to clear out the thoughts jumbled around in there.They’re dramatic and a little bit of an attention whore but not _that_ much. 

Just as they’ve re-adjusted their hold on the stupid waffle, Cherri groans. He opens his eyes slowly and squints at them like they’re a trespasser. Which they sort of are. 

“Poison?” He asks hoarsely, seemingly more surprised to see them than anything else.

“Yep.”

Cherri frowns and glances to the waffle on his stomach. “What’re you doin’?”

“Savin’ your ass tha’s what. Came ‘t check up on you an’ you just passed the fuck out on me, dude. So I called Jet, ‘n he’s on ‘is way, but he told me ‘t cool you down. This was all I had.”

Cherri processes what they’ve said for a moment and shakes his head, a mixture of too tired to ask more questions and annoyed. Good. If they’re annoying him, then he’s gonna be fine.

“How long was I out?” he mumbles, relaxing back against the couch. 

“Less than an hour. Jet should be here soon an’ then I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Thank the Witch, hope Jet hurries.”

Poison’s smile drops. The fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?

“Well if me helpin’ you not burn t’ death isn’t _preferable_ ,” they spit, taking their hand off of the stupid fucking soggy waffle and letting it fall down onto the pillow beside his head.“I can leave an’ let you suffer until Jet finally gets here since he’s apparently _so_ much better.”

Cherri frowns and opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. 

“Wha-? No, Poison I only meant-”

“Eh, save it.” They wave their hand dismissively and stand up.

Their bad knee cracks and they have to limp over to the otherside of the room to lean against the wall. They keep their back to Cherri though, pretending to be more mad than they are hurt.

Poison thought that maybe they were putting this pointless negativity between them aside for once. That they were being the bigger person and helping Cherri out but clearly he doesn’t want or need their help. 

Now they just have to wait on Jet to get here- they’re upset but they’re not enough of a horrible person to just leave him here alone.

“Poison,” Cherri amends quietly.

They don’t turn around. 

Fuck this. They have much more important things they could be doing right now. Like reading their book or- or hangout with Ghoul or something. He’s going on a couple day run to the Market on his own next week and they wanna hang out with him at least a little before he leaves. 

Poison only turns around when they hear Cherri try and get up. 

“You probably shouldn’t-”

“Let me finish a sentence for once, would ya?”

Scolded, Poison drops their hands and nods for Cherri to say whatever he wants to say. He takes a moment to get adjusted, sitting against the backrest and moving all of the waffles off of him. 

It makes Poison feel stupid for being so worried. Not that they’d ever admit it. Least of all to him. Clearly their concern isn’t needed.

“You can drop th’ not giving a fuck attitude with me,” Cherri tells them plainly.

They gape at him long enough for him to roll his eyes. “I know I scared you, ‘n I’m sorry. I thought I could fight this off on ‘m own. Clearly I was wrong.” he waits a beat, seemingly searching them for something. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I”m not dumb, Poison. You didn’t have ‘t stay and I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t. But you did. So, thank you.”

All they can do is mouth a ‘your welcome’ and slightly freak out trying to figure out why Cherri’s being so nice to them all of a sudden. They just snapped at him and wasted his food to try and bring down a fever that probably wasn’t really all that high- seeing as he’s awake and everything now. 

They clear their throat awkwardly and gesture weakly over to the sink across the room. 

“Jet uh, he said ‘t get you to drink somethin’ if you woke up b’fore he got here. Want me ‘t bring you some water?”

“Yeah, please.”

Poison goes through the motions of filling the cup with water and making sure not to spill any as they bring it to Cherri. He drinks slowly but once he’s done he all but melts back into the couch.

“Thanks,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

He looks moments away from falling asleep.

“No problem, Cola,” they tell him with a shrug.

The only person he lets call him that is The Girl, but she has everyone wrapped around her fingers so that's no surprise. But Cherri obviously isn’t around Poison’s finger because his eyes snap open and, for a second, they’re certain he’s going to shout at them.

They weren’t saying it to be mean or annoying, like they did with Jet earlier. They just… they were just really worried earlier and now that he’s doing a little better, they realize that their attitudes towards each other weren’t necessary. Cherri’s a good friend and they’re honestly grateful for everything he’s done for them. 

When he doesn’t do anything but stare at them, brows furrowed like he’s thinking hard, Poison begins to wonder if they should apologize. They didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or anything.

“Sorry, I- it just slipped…”

To their surprise, Cherri’s face relaxes and he gives them a genuine smile. 

“ ‘s fine. Don’ make a habit of it.”

They grin and nod their agreement, settling down on the couch beside him as they wait on Jet to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one took me so long. It was really hard to write because I felt like it was just mirroring everything else I've written, where person A is sick/hurt and the others take care of them. And I don't want that to be all I write. It can be my favorite thing to write but it shouldn't be the only thing ya know?  
> I dunno.  
> SO this one was different a little, and had Poison "not" freaking out and just being whiny the whole time haha.  
> Let me know what you think, I always appreciate feedback! <3


	7. All the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *death mentions  
> *it's not gory but its about scars so warning for that  
> *fire

One day, when its so hot that even desert borns like the girl are miserable, the four decide to lounge out in the shed by the diner. Its slightly cooler in there but Jet still tugs off his shirt once he's out of the suns harsh rays.

He's about to grab a water bottle from the container they brought with them when he notices that all of the others are staring at him, a mix of shock and concern all over their faces. 

And then he realizes that they've never seen him without his shirt, never seen the huge,ugly scars that cover his entire back. Its not that he forgot about them being there, more as if he thought the others knew by now. They've been living together for years by this point. But no, he realizes as he takes in Kobra's careful avoidance of his eyes.

Because Kobra knows, he's seen them. And Jet knows every one of his too. The other two though, they haven't.

"Jet?" Poison whispers, voice both pleading and careful.

He could push this aside if he wanted to, could trust the others to drop it. And yet, as painful as the memory is, Jet starts talking.

He tells the others about his first crew. How they were just a bunch of kids, about their age now, and how they were snuck up on one night while they had all been asleep. The car he was sleeping in was caught on fire and he was unable to escape or help his crewmates in their fights. He watched them all get shot down and the flames grow closer to him. 

Just as the flames reached him, searing into the skin of his back and nearly making him pass out from the pain and smoke, he had broken a window and escaped.

Eventually he was found by Show Pony and taken to Docs station, where he finally was able to take the time to recover from what he went through. 

The others all look horrified when he finishes speaking and so he turns the topic onto something else, something meaningless. He doesn't tell them that he was eight. It would do them no good to worry even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi i know it's been forever since i've posted, but I was on (still am) a break from posting because of how much stress I was giving myself to keep up a schedule. But I wanted to ease back into it with a project of mine that's much more casual. So have a short little backstory on Jet. <3  
> Let me know what you think?


	8. This is a love song, in my own way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings this time, just Jet and Kobra cuddling <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Feeling rather motived today so I did something I hardly ever do, wrote something fluffy! This is pure JetKobra fluff with like, the tiniest sprinkle of angst in there. Fluff isn't usually my thing so if this feels extra cheesy or something please forgive me. I just had the image of this scene in my head when I woke up today and I jist Had to write it you knwo?  
> Thanks for reading!! I hope you all enjoy <3

Kobra drifts awake slowly.

It’s different than the sudden, jarring way he normally stumbles into consciousness. That is, if he even sleeps at all. But yesterday was good. He’d had a _good_ vision for once. One that showed a blurry image of his sibling excitedly pulling something out of an old box. He has no idea what it means but without the usual panic having a bad vision gives him, he was calm enough to drift off afterwards. 

He’s warm, that’s one of the first things he notices, long before he’s ready to open his eyes. But it's not the sweltering sort of heat that means he’s fallen asleep in the middle of the day. Rather it’s a gentle, steady warmth that wraps around him closely and keeps him right on the edge of waking.

HIs room is quiet and the only sound he can hear is breathing. It must be Jet’s. He must have gotten home sometime while Kobra was asleep and the thought brings a welcome relief.

And Jet must not be asleep either because he hums under his breath and begins carding his fingers slowly through Kobra’s hair. The pleasant feeling of his fingertips gently dragging against his scalp has him nearly melting back against the mattress. 

He forgets sometimes, how nice moments like this can be. He’s never had this before, never had someone like Jet. Someone who cares about him in this way. It keeps taking him off guard, the simple intimacy in small actions. And it’s kinda scary how fast he’s falling for Jet but everything feels too… _right_ for him to question it.

“Mmhmn” he murmurs, leaning his head into Jet’s hand as he moves to play with another section of hair.

Jet must think he’s still asleep, because he doesn’t answer. Instead he pulls Kobra a little closer, alerting him to the fact that he’s completely held in Jet’s arms right now. Maybe that’s why he slept so well. 

A steady hand begins slowly caressing the side of his face, down from his temple to his jaw and then back up in one continuous motion. And Kobra’s heart swells, just from this. From being held by his boyfriend and basking in the feeling of being loved and safe. 

“Jet,” he whispers, at last managing to open his eyes.

Jet is leaning on his side, Kobra curled up facing him with hardly any space between them at all. He smiles sweetly, love shining in his eyes and continues to play with Kobra’s hair. The hand on his face slows to a stop and comes to rest on his cheek. Jet’s thumb rubs lazy circles in the skin there, the calluses on his fingers catching against the smooth skin. 

“Mornin’.” Jet murmurs, his lips barely moving with the word.

Kobra sighs and leans into Jet’s hands, an easy smile on his face. He’s nearly drifting off again when Jet leans forward and places a soft kiss on his lips. Kobra kisses back, lazy and unhurried. 

It’s a long, quiet moment where the only sound is their mixed breathing before Jet pulls away.

He’s got a lovestruck lopsided grin on his face, eyes so bright and full that it makes Kobra want to never leave. 

“Morning,” Kobra answers, far too late but it doesn't matter.

Jet lets him tuck in against him again, fitting his head into the crook of his shoulder as if that’s the only place he’s meant to be. Maybe it is. 

He kisses the top of Kobra’s head and pulls the blanket up around them a little more. 

“Sleep well?”

Kobra nods and tries to work up the energy to answer. It’s one of the rare occasions where he could probably go back to sleep if he tried. 

“When ‘d you get back?”

“Not long. Sunrise,” Jet answers, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

Kobra frowns against the fabric of the worn t-shirt Jet’s wearing. 

“How come you’re not sleepin’?”

“You looked so cute that I got distracted,” Jet admits, a bit of sheepishness twinging in his voice. “Didn’t mean ‘t wake you.” At this, Kobra lifts his head to look at Jet.

The room is mostly dark, save for a bright strip of light that comes from a hole in the boards over the windows. It appears almost white against the blackness of the surrounding room, however it illuminates just enough for Kobra to be able to see a little of Jet’s expression right now.

He’s looking down at him with soft, easy eyes. Ones that also hold the tiredness that’s to be expected from him going on a run by himself for two days. Not to mention the fact that Kobra’s convinced he hasn’t been telling the truth when he assures them that the blaster wounds in his stomach aren’t sore anymore.

It’s only been a month. He’s still sore. 

“You should sleep,” Kobra insists, well aware of the irony.

Jet hums in amusement, a sound that’s nearly a laugh.

“ ‘m gonna. Soon. ‘re you gonna try ‘n sleep too?”

And how can Kobra say no? He has nowhere to be, nothing to do thats anywhere close to as important as this feels. He could lie here forever, could stay in Jets arms forever. 

Before, he had thought that love like this wasn’t real. That it was exaggerated or played up in those old books and movies. But then he met Jet and all of a sudden his heart is absolutely full of love. It takes his breath away sometimes, how much he loves him, but it also feels as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting for Jet even before he knew he existed. He doesn’t believe in soulmates or whatever. That’s too naive and too much of a stretch even for him. But, as he nods and presses his forehead against Jet’s chest, letting him pull him completely against him, he thinks that maybe this was meant to be.

Maybe he was supposed to meet Jet. Maybe him falling in love, maybe Jet falling in love with _him_ was something that was planned. He hopes that it was, ‘cause that means that he isn’t crazy for feeling as if his whole world has narrowed down to just this. Just Jet’s breaths in his hair and the weight of his hands wrapped around him. 

Kobra falls back to sleep with a smile on his face, feeling perfectly at peace and safe in the way that only Jet can make him feel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i finally gave Kobra a good night's rest and Jet that hug I promised after the last few updates haha


	9. Tracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever, but here's Kobra taking the girl to the tracks for the first time!   
> This is super short with like, no plot. BUt it's cute, I think. That's what i was going for, anyway. We also meet a cool freind ;)

“Alright baby girl,” Kobra says enthusiastically, lifting the squirming baby to his hip. “We’re here.”

She’s already looking around wide-eyed at the crowd surrounding them. The Tracks are busy today, seeing as qualifying is about to start, so the dusty little nook between sand dunes is packed full of ‘joys. Most people stand in groups, talking and laughing loudly, but some have already made their way down to the actual track. 

The place is nothing fancy, just a worn down tent acting as a place to make bets and sign up to race and the racetrack itself is simply a circle of packed down sand outlined with scrap parts and busted tires to act as a medien between the bikes and the onlookers. Already, the sound of the engines is loud enough to be heard over the noise of a hundred or so people speaking at top volume.

Kobra sighs, the tiniest smile twitching on his lips. This place is one of his favorite spots in the entire desert. The smell of gas and rubber and dirt seems to settle in his lungs and make everything else fade away for a little while. His hands ache to be behind the handlebars of his own bike but, unfortunately, he left it back at the diner today.

He glances down to the baby to make sure she’s okay. The whole reason for this trip is because he wanted her to see this place, just so she could get out of the diner for a bit and be relatively safe while doing so. She’s not used to people, nor loud crowds like this. But she can handle Poison and Ghoul bickering all day, and she’s fine when Ghoul sets off an explosion so long as it’s not too close. So he’s not _too_ worried about her being overwhelmed with this place. And, thankfully, now that the initial shock has worn off, she’s no longer clinging to his jacket or looking like she’s seconds from having a breakdown. 

Instead, she’s now blinking slowly and turning her head around, trying to see all of the new, exciting things surrounding them. Kobra gets the feeling.

“This is th’ Tracks honey,” he tells her softly, but still loud enough for her to hear him.

She glances around, uncertain. “People.”

He giggles a little as she leans over his shoulder to try and point at someone who’s passed them.

“Yeah. Lots ‘a people.”

She looks up at him. “Loud.”

At this, he takes a second to make sure she’s not trying to tell him that this is _too_ loud. Because he gets that. At first this place had nearly been too much and it took time for him to learn to love it.

“ ‘d you wanna go back ‘n th’ car?” he asks carefully.

She just shakes her head and goes back to watching all of the people go past them on their way to the track, so he assumes she’s alright. The qualifiers should begin soon and Kobra debates getting her closer. She’s fine on his bike, loves it even, but he doesn’t know how she’ll do when it’s an unfamiliar engine.

In the end, Koba decides to get a little closer, but just by a few feet. The baby holds onto him tightly as the first few bikes take off, the sound of the engines echoing off the tall dunes that keep this place hidden. 

Kobra only half watches the race, more interested in making sure that she’s having fun rather than being traumatized or something. He completely misses the person coming up to them until they start speaking.

“Hey, you’re the Kobra Kid.”

Kobra flinches and turns to face the random ‘joy who’s spoken. They’re short, with dark skin and a thick black leather jacket. 

“Yep.” Best not to give anything away, until he knows the situation. Korba’s learned quickly that people rarely have good reasons for knowing his name. Either they’ve seen him race and are convinced he cheats, or they wanna know if his crew is accepting new members. Both answers are a definite no but some people don’t take that for an answer. 

He has his blaster on his other hip, ready if he needs it, but he really hopes he won’t have to fight someone today. They’re on a good streak this week. No one has been shot, no one's sick. It’s a rare occasion for them all to be at full health and Kobra really doesn’t want to be the one to break it.

“ ‘s tha’ a baby?”

Kobra squints. “Yes.”

“Didn’t know you guys had a baby…” the person doesn’t lean in but they do give the baby a long look. “Kinda cute. What’s yer name sweetheart?”

The person doesn’t sound threatening, or like a complete jerk, so Kobra lets himself relax a little. He still keeps his eye on them though.

“We call ‘er girl,” he supplies, lifting the baby’s hand to wave at the ‘joy. “Say hi, babygirl.” The ‘joy laughs and smiles a huge grin. “Hi! You’re a cute one.”

Always the one to love attention, the baby beams and starts babbling nonsense. Kobra laughs as he readjusts his hold on her so she doesn’t fall.

“Showin’ ‘er th’ Tracks?” the ‘joy asks lightly, their attention almost solely on the baby as she tries to reach across them to yank at their hair.

Kobra nods.

“Yeah. ‘s her first time here.”

“Oh, you’re gonna turn out ‘t be a racer ‘f sure then aren’t ya?” the person coos, reaching out their hand but waiting on Kobra’s nod of approval before ruffling her hair.

When they straighten back up, the person runs a hand through their own hair in an almost nervous gesture. 

“ ‘m Sandman, by th’ way. Kinda new ‘t this part ‘a th’ sands but I heard stories ‘bout th’ Tracks ‘n had ‘t come see ‘em myself. Never thought I’d meet one ‘a th’ Four though.”

“You race?” Kobra asks, curious now.

Sandman shrugs. “A little. Lost ‘m bike in a clap th’ other week so it’s gonna be a while ‘til I can ride again.”

Kobra winces in sympathy. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost his bike. It’s almost a part of him. Hell it’s almost a member of the crew at this point. 

“Well when you get a new one,” Kobra starts, having to nearly shout now over the noise of the actual race beginning. “You should send me a call ‘n we can race sometime.”

Sandman’s eyes go almost as wide as the baby’s.

“Serious? Fuck yeah dude. That’d be sick.”

Kobra goes to say something else, but the baby decides that she’s over this place and starts whimpering like she does when she’s about to cry. And he really doesn’t want to have a fussy baby in the car with him the whole way back to the diner so he offers Sandman a sheepish smile and a quick apology before making his leave.

Thankfully the baby quietens down once they get away from most of the noise and people, settling easily into her little carseat and happily gnawing on one of the teething toys they bought for her. Kobra turns on the radio and smiles to himself as he pulls away. It’s not often that he makes new friends and he’s honestly really glad he decided to take the baby out today. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi, sandman is Not Pete Wentz. He's based off of him, like how the 4 are Based off of mcr. But they're not the same people. Also yes, we will be getting a little more on Sandman later on. I dunno when but I promise I will eventually haha  
> also, next will be the one shot of Jet teaching the girl how to shoot. which i also dunno how long that will take but it should be liek a week or so? maybe less. It just depends. 
> 
> So, lemme know what you think?
> 
> (Also, also. The girl is about three here, but Kobra calls her baby cause she is a baby to him. So that's why she's talking and stuff but still likes to be held a lot. I dunno. I dont know a lot about kids so i'm just winging that part)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *implied/ refernced child abuse or like, endangerment?   
> I dunno how to tag that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I got super motivated again and wrote this in one sitting. Maybe i just needed a few weeks off to get all my motivation going again bc I've written so much this week. And I've not even like, sat down and told myself to write a certain amount or whatever. I've just been like, Idea! and then Had to write it and ended up finishing it easilly. So hopefully this inspiration/motivation will stay at a consistent level haha  
> So yeah, this is the one I was gonna post before my break. But then the break happened. and now here it is. Lots of Jet star stuff this week, can you tell I'm going through some loving Jet Star hours here?  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! <3

Jet Star takes a deep, steadying breath. 

He’s usually not one to be this anxious, or at the least not this noticeably so. But he’s absolutely brimming with it right now. Kobra had caught on and stopped him before he stepped outside , placing a hand on his shoulder and asking him gently if he was sure. 

Jet knows he doesn’t have to do this. It’s not like he can’t do it tomorrow, or have one of the others do it instead. He just…. He feels like now is the right time. 

Yesterday they got in a clap, nothing too bad considering their track record. Hell it went almost perfect, all of the Dracs were taken out quickly and efficiently. No one was hurt. But Kobra almost was. Ghoul hadn’t been paying attention and he set off an explosion a little too close for comfort. 

All it did was knock Kobra flat on his back and make him lose his breath for a few seconds. But he’s fine, not even a scratch. That didn’t stop Poison from damn near killing Ghoul in retribution, even if they all know that they would never _actually_ hurt Ghoul. 

But it just, made Jet think a little. Because Ghoul is like- less than 10 years older than the girl. Everything he knows about fighting, about shooting a gun or making bombs, was self taught. So he’s very much a trial and error sort of fighter. If he can’t hit a target with his blaster, he’ll lug a bomb at it without much thought. And, as useful as that is in a fight, it’s also very dangerous to Ghoul himself and to anyone else he’s fighting alongside.

So Jet realized yesterday that the girl is older than Ghoul was when he learned how to shoot, that if one of them _don’t_ teach her she’s going to have to learn how the hard way. And that’s the last thing that he wants, her being in a life or death situation and having to use blind luck to make it out.

That doesn’t erase, however, the anxiety that builds up simply from the _thought_ of him handing their six year old a fucking blaster. He hates that this is a necessity, that it’s either teach her now or regret it when the time comes for her to need to know how. And that time _will_ come, sooner rather than later. She’s already been in firefights, damn near her entire life. 

Jet just hates that she’s so used to it, that she doesn’t even react as he pulls his blaster slowly from it’s holster at his hip. The familiar weight in his hand feels heavier now, as he turns it to the side for her to look at it.

She’s curious now, squinting against the sun as she likely tries to figure out why he’s brought her out here just to show her a blaster she’s seen a trillion times.

“You wanna hold it like this,” Jet begins, uncertain of any other way to start this. “Make sure you use both hands and keep your pointer finger here.”

He demonstrates himself before handing the blaster over to her and letting her position her hands just as he did. She gets it first try, since she’s seen them all holding a gun at least once a day. Jet tries to ignore the gnawing ache in his gut at the thought. 

“Good,” he praises lightly, trying for a smile even as his hands shake. “So, ‘d you know how t’ aim?”

She tilts her head but nods, glancing down at the bright blue gun like she’s studying it.

“Yeah, you just lift it an’ point.” 

Slowly she pulls the gun up to about chin level and points it off into the distance. It’s not bad, though the barrel is pointing a little too high.

“Close,” Jet says, helping her aim it directly outward. “Make sure ‘t keep the end straight too. Hand it back?”

Wordlessly she passes him the gun and he holds it to the side again for her to see. When he’s satisfied that she can see the difference, he continues.

“This is th’ safety. It should always be on ‘cause th’ blaster won’t fire until you flip it off. Like this.” He flips it and the gun makes a quiet buzzing sound as it powers. “Then this is th’ setting. Getting hit on th’ stun settin’ hurts pretty bad an’ you’ll have a nasty mark, but bein’ hit on the kill setting will do some serious damage.”

The girl nods in understanding. “Gotcha. Tha’s th’ safety,” she points to it without touching. “An’ tha’s where you set it ‘t stun ‘r kill.”

Jet shouldn’t hate that she’s learning this this quickly, but he does. Because he had been hoping that they’d managed to give her a good childhood, despite the shit that they go through on a daily basis. Despite all the shootouts and the supplies stretched too thin. Even when she’s been in claps since she was a toddler. 

But she’s so… mature about this. She’s taking it seriously but also showing him that she understands and is more than ready. So fuck did she really have a childhood at all? 

If being shown a blaster that literally can, and has, been used to take lives is something she can so easily have this conversation about, how is this any better than how they grew up? Jet has had a blaster in his hand for as long as he can remember. Since before his Ma got ghosted, that’s for sure. And Hell, it’s not like he can _blame_ his Ma for that. You do what you have to do to survive. But he had just… thought that they were protecting the girl from that, from how harsh living out here really is. 

Because Ghoul learned to fight because he was on his own since he was a fucking toddler. He didn’t get a choice. He probably didn’t even know what he was _doing_. And Poison and Kobra had their childhood robbed by the suffocating hold Better Living has on its citizens. 

So when they decided to raise the girl, Jet had fucking sworn to himself taht she would have better. That she’d get to grow up and know that she was safe, that she could be exactly herself and that she was so fucking loved. But now he’s reminded of all the shit she’s seen already. All the burnt and bloody blaster wounds that have been patched up with too few medical supplies. All the shouting matches over pointless shit. The days Kobra can’t leave his room and the hours Ghoul will lock himself away. They’re nothing close to a perfect family, but _Witch_. They’ve tried so hard to raise her right. But Jet isn’t sure that they’ve succeeded.

“Jet?”

He blinks, his mind colliding back into the moment with enough force to send him reeling a bit. He sways and has to squeeze his eyes shut. He shouldn’t be freaking out, not with her right here. This has to be done. _Later_ , once the lesson is over and she’s inside helping Ghoul with the newest radio he’s putting together with her, _then_ Jet can let himself think about this shit.

Not now. She needs him to be strong. 

“Sorry, munchkin. Got sidetracked. You wanna hold it ‘n show me the stuff I jus’ showed you?”

Easily she takes the gun and aims it again, keeping the barrel straight this time. She looks down and uses her thumb to flick the safety. 

“This is th’ safety. I gotta have it on ‘t shoot but it should be off most ‘a th’ time.” Then she twists the dial from stun to kill. “ Then I put it on stun ‘r kill.”

Jet nods. “Good. Do you think you’re ready ‘t try ‘n shoot somethin’?”

Her eyes light up and Jet does his best to ignore the spike of anxiety that returns at that. He takes his time setting up old powerpup cans on some cinderblocks they have lying around. 

“Ready?” he asks after everything is set up and they’re both standing a few feet away.

“Yep. ‘m gonna beat your record.”

Jet chuckles despite himself. “Wanna make a bet on it?”

“Like what?”

“If you can knock down all six of ‘em then you don’t gotta help with cleanin’ tomorrow.”

Chore day is hated by everyone in the diner, so he already knows she’s gonna agree.

She grins wide, like she’s planning something, and takes aim. “You’re on.”

But, even with one eye, Jet’s still a damn good shot so he doubts she’ll be able to knock down all six on her first go. No one is a straight shot their first try, right? Though, he's been proven wrong before.

“Keep it on stun ‘t save th’ battery but go ahead whenever you’re ready.”

The girl takes a deep breath and focuses all of her attention on the cans. Jet watches the way she stills and her joking expression turns into one of concentration. His stomach goes into knots again, at all of the ways this could go wrong. 

She could miss and end up hitting one of the others if they happen to come outside right now. Even though Jet told them all to stay in while they did this lesson. But the blaster could also malfunction. It’s old. Shit like that always happens at the worst possible time. Or-

The fizzing static of a blast cuts through Jet’s thoughts. He turns his head just in time to watch the first can fall, a sizzling scorch mark on it’s side. The next can falls a second later. Then another. And before Jet has even remembered to breathe, all six cans are lying in the sand. 

His mouth hangs open as the girl squeals happily and bounces up and down.

“Jet! I did it! Did you see? Did you see?”

“I-” he has to close his mouth and swallow around the dryness before he’s able to form words. “Yeah, motorbaby. I saw.”

“I win,” she tells him smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t gotta clean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jet's wrong, of course. they Have given her a good childhood. She knows that she can be herself and that her family loves her very much, that they will always keep her safe. She's a very lucky kid to have them <3


	11. Slip Into The Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *major character death  
> *blood/injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry <3

“You’re an _idiot_ ,” Ghoul scolds bitterly, pressing down with a semi-clean gauze on Poison’s side.

They groan miserably and squeeze their eyes shut, but flip him off anyway. He takes that as a good sign. But they _are_ an idiot. I mean _seriously_ , who the fuck picks a fight with some random ‘joy over a fucking _band_. 

“You’re- you’re a bigger ‘n,” Poison mutters through their teeth, face contorted from the pain.

Ghoul feels bad when he has to press down harder but really, what else is he supposed to do? Let them bleed out? 

Still, he gets goosebumps from the choked off scream Poison makes when more pressure is applied to the stab wound in their stomach. They can’t afford to be loud though. If Dracs hear them and they end up in a clap, there’s no way in _hell_ Poison is in any shape to fight and Ghoul can’t take out but 20? Maybe a couple more, on his own.

“I know,” Ghoul reassures them under his breath, keeping his voice as calm as he can manage. “ ‘s soon ‘s it stops bleedin’, I’ll wrap you up and we’ll get back ‘t Jet.”

Poison doesn’t answer but their eyes flutter open and catch his. He was worried the pain and blood loss might make them go into shock, but other than looking exhausted, Poison seems to be all there. But Ghoul also knows how fast they can slip into shock if he doesn’t hurry, so the second their wound stops bleeding he’s quickly going about the process of patching them up enough for the ride home. They don’t have a lot of medical supplies with them in the car, just enough to hold them over if something goes wrong, but he’s thankful for the little bit they have. 

As he presses the gauze over the hole in their stomach, Ghoul takes Poison’s hand and has them put gentle pressure over it.

“Keep it here, okay? Don’ press hard but we gotta keep it from bleedin’ any more.”

Poison blinks slowly, processing the words for a moment or two before they’re nodding and holding their hand in place rather than him keeping it there. But their grip is weak and Ghoul can feel the dread begin to pool inside him. They’ve already lost a lot of blood and it’s such a long way to the diner. 

And it’s not like they could finish buying supplies after Poison was stabbed, so all they have with them is one bottle of water. Most of it was used to flush out the wound and- and Ghoul doesn’t think sitting in a hot car for two hours without significant water is going to be helpful in keeping them from getting worse.

Fuck.

Ghoul takes a deep breath, forcing himself to not freak out. He has to get them back to Jet, _then_ he can freak out. 

Slowly he lifts his hand off of Poison’s, watching to make sure they can keep the grip. They catch his eyes and offer him a tired, pained smile.

“ ‘m okay. Jus’ drive.”

Ghoul knows that they’re not, that if he doesn’t get them back to Jet soon then they very well might not make it. So he pushes all of his fear down and nods, shifting back into the driver’s seat and cranking the car. He hardly ever drives so it takes him a second to adjust the seat so he can even reach the petals.

He tears off through the sand, nearly swerving when he clambers onto the faded pavement of Guano. Poison curses in the passenger seat, face contorted and pale. Ghoul presses down harder on the gas, praying to any deity he can remember the name of that they’ll make it home in time. 

Of course, Ghoul’s never exactly been the religious type. He doesn’t see the point. If you have to beg for some higher being to care about you and your family, then he doesn’t think they should be prayed to in the first place. And maybe it's that shaky doubt that the witch isn't listening that causes a brightly colored laser beam to hit Ghoul’s side mirror.

He curses and chances a glance behind them. Two cars, definitely Dracs. Fuck.

“ ‘s tha’?” Poison slurs, trying to sit up and twist to look behind them.

They don’t make it far and Ghoul watches them collapse back down into their seat with a hiss, visibly paler. Shit. They’re fucked aren’t they?

Ghoul shakes his head and pulls his gun from it’s holster. Fully charged, because Kobra warned them he had a bad feeling about today. Ghoul had just thought the bad feeling would have ended after Poison was fucking _stabbed_ , but apparently not. Their luck fucking sucks.

“Pois, Pois I need you ‘t hold th’ wheel straight. Just for a sec, till I c’n pop their tires.”

He doesn’t like the idea of making them sit up, or letting a half conscious person steer when they’re pushing 80, but he doesn’t have a choice. And Poison, too stubborn for their own fucking good, drags themself upright before Ghoul has the chance to help them like he planned. They’re shaking and hunched over but they place both hands on the wheel beside his and nod. There’s nothing but determination in their eyes.

Ghoul lets go of the wheel and, keeping his foot on the gas, twists to lean out the window. He fires two, three shots at the windshield of the nearest car. He misses but that’s okay, it was just a distraction. The cars swerve a bit, likely to get him to stop shooting at their windshields, and Ghoul takes his chance. Two shots leaves the first car’s front tires blown. It jerks to the side and he pays no mind when the Drac driving it over corrects and sends the vehicle spinning. He’s already shooting at the next car, this time taking it out on the first shot to the tire. It too spins and comes to a skidding stop.

Ghoul’s grinning from the adrenaline thumping through his system and, as he slides back into the car, Poison’s wearing a smile too. They let go of the wheel once he grabs it again and fall heavily back into their seat, panting as if they’ve ran for miles. The fuzzy feeling of the adrenaline fades then, when Ghoul can see how much worse they’ve gotten. 

Their eyes flutter and he glances down to the makeshift dressing he put over their wound. It’s nearly completely bled through and Poison’s hand simply rests limp on top of it. _Shit_.

“Hey, hey no, no.”

Ghoul reaches over and places his hand over the wound again, his eyes darting from the road to Poison every few seconds. Their eyes are barely open now, their mouth parted slightly as they breathe unevenly. 

“C’mon Pois, you gotta stay awake. We’re almost home. ‘N then Jet can yell at you while he fixes you up, yeah?”

“10 carb’ns that’ he’ll yell at you too,” Poison murmurs, a smile twitching at the corner of their mouth.

Fuck, Ghoul loves them so much.

“Okay. You’re on. But you gotta stay awake so we know who won, okay?” Poison winces as Ghoul presses down harder but nods anyway. He doesn’t make them say it out loud. They need to save their strength. 

Because he was lying. It’s nearly another hour until they get back. But he won’t let himself think of the extreme unlikeliness of Poison staying conscious that whole time. Or even… or even _alive_ for that long. 

He shakes his head. No. They’re gonna be fine. They’ve all been through much worse.

“Ghoul?” Poison whispers, their voice so quiet he barely hears them over the engine.

“shh, it’s fine. We’re almost there. You're okay.”

They scoff, like they know he’s lying through his teeth.

“It’s a long way to th’ diner,” they point out, like they're having a normal conversation.

“I know. I know but I- we’re gonna be there soon. You’re _gonna_ be fine.”

This time, when he glances away from the road to look at them, he finds Poison watching him sadly. His chest aches at that, at how they’re practically giving up and- and _fuck that_. He will _not_ let them fucking die from something as stupid as this. And if the Witch or- or Destroya or anyone else has a problem then Ghoul will fucking fight them himself.

Poison is going to be _fine_.

They cough then, a gross, wet sound that has him looking over again in a heartbeat. He doesn’t miss, _can't_ miss how their hand comes away red when they bring it back to their side. Panic begins to overtake him and he presses down on the gas as hard as it'll go. They’re pushing a hundred now but the old engine won’t be able to do any faster, not without blowing and making this situation even worse. They are well and truly fucked.

“Gh’l?” Poison whispers, their voice so faint that he feels the ever growing ache in his chest get impossibly worse.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine. It’s-”

“I love you…”

He snaps his head in their direction, eyes wide with fear and panic and- and fuck _!_

They’ve said it before yeah, quietly when they’re alone. When they need to hear the reassurance in each other’s voices. Usually he loves the sound of those words on Poison’s lips, loves to kiss them as they say it. But this, as much as he loves hearing them say that, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and makes his stomach churn painfully. Because they’re saying it like they’re saying _goodbye_. Like they’re never going to get to say it again.

Ghoul opens his mouth to reply but he chokes on something close to a sob, one he bites back down as hard as he can so he can repeat those words back to them.

“I love you more than anything.”

The smile they give him when he looks over- he _should_ be paying attention to the road but he's too afraid to take his eyes off them for long- is full of pain and their eyes are hardly open, but they look relieved. As if they were worried he wouldn’t have said it back.

“I love you,” he says again, much more firmly. “I love you and you are _not_ fucking dyin' on me so don’t you _dare_ fuckin’ say goodbye, asshole.”

“ _Ghoul…_ ”

“No! I will personally fucking fight the Witch if she so much as _tries_ to take you. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

He sounds desperate, even to himself, but Poison doesn’t argue. They give him something that might be a real smile and press down again on their stomach. There’s a bit of red at the corner of their mouth and Ghoul has to literally tear his eyes away from it. He knows what that means. Knows they’re losing way too much blood. That as much as he is denying it, they are dying. 

But if he can _just_ get them to Jet, just get them home, then everything is going to be okay. He’s not going to let it be anything _but_ okay.

________________________________

Poison can feel it.

They’ve been in some pretty harrowing situations before, they know what it feels like to cross that threshold into being too far gone. The only difference is that every other time, Jet’s been there. With an exasperated but concerned look and those magical healing hands of his. He’s brought Poison back from the brink more than a few times.

Hell, he brought Kobra back from the literal dead once. But only that once. And Poison doesn’t think that was entirely Jet’s doing. 

But right now Jet isn’t here. He’s too far away, back at the diner with Kobra and the Girl.

Poison’s heart hurts when they think of them, to realize that they’re not going to get to see them again. There’s a lot that they wish they could say to Kobra and the others, if they were here in the car with them. They’d tell the Girl that they love her, ruffle her hair and let her wear their jacket like she’s been begging them for months now. 

And Kobra… fuck. If he were here they’d tell him they love him too. Apologize for all the shit they’ve put him through over the years, all the times that he had to step up and be the older sibling because they weren’t able. It wasn’t fair for him to have to do that. And if he were here they’d tell him that they are proud of him, proud of the life he’s made for himself and how happy he is now. 

And maybe Poison is selfish but anything they can think of saying to Jet if he were here is nowhere near as important as hugging him would be. An actual, proper hug. One they don’t shrug out of or pull away from before they’re seen. He gives the best hugs, tight and genuinely warm. He’s Poison’s best friend and they haven't told him that in a long time.

“You still with me?” Ghoul shouts over the engine, eyes frantically darting to them.

He’s scared, terrified even. And it's Poison’s fault. 

They fucked up.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“Hush, you’ve got nothin’ ‘t be sorry for unless you fall asleep on me, asshole.”

Poison laughs but it’s a wet sound, punctuated by a painful coughing fit that ends with red stains on their hand...fuck.

They lean their head back against the headrest and try and breathe through it, to fight off the swirling dizziness that’s threatening to pull them under. If they sleep now, they’re not going to wake up. But they can feel themself slipping. 

“Poison,” Ghoul calls again, his voice desperate.

They pry their eyes open, not even realizing that they’d let them fall shut. Poison takes a ragged breath and looks down at their torso. They’re covered in blood, too much. There’s no way they're making it out of this one. 

Shit. 

“Ghoul?”

Ghoul makes a choking sound, like he’s trying desperately to not break down. They feel horrible for being the cause of it.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think th’ Witch ‘ll bring me back?”

They don't really believe in her. Not really. But it’s a thought that’s wormed its way into their head now. 

Will they meet her? Or will everything just turn to black and that’s it. 

They’re hoping for the former. Maybe they can work something out where she’ll let them watch over the others. That’d be a pretty nice eternity, watching their family and making sure they’re safe.

“Fuck,” Ghoul chokes out, his voice thick. “I- She fuckin’ _better_.”

“If she doesn’t… if- I-”

Poison has to stop, their head too blurry and body too weak to support them anymore. They don’t have a lot of time. 

It takes nearly all of their remaining strength but Poison drags themself up. Ghoul stares at them wide eyed, afraid as they re-adjust so they can lean over the center console to rest their head on his shoulder. They’ll be damned if they die curled up in a car seat and not beside their boyfriend.

“If I don’ come back,” they whisper, eyes fluttering as they fight the pull that’s weighing them down. “Prom’s me you’ll stay with th’ others. Don’ go off on your own. Take care of yourself. For me?”

They can’t feel their wound anymore. And they know that’s a bad sign but they ignore it. 

“Pois,” Ghoul’s voice pleads. “I- fuck. Yeah, I’ll stay with ‘em. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Poison lets their eyes shut now, relaxing against Ghoul and listening to the way he’s breathing. They can hear it hitch, telling them that he’s crying. But they can’t open their eyes anymore, can’t move. The sound of the engine lulls quietly around them, pulling them under. 

It fades slowly, as everything grows silent. They focus on Ghoul, on the fleeting feeling of them leaning against him. How his shoulder begins to shake as he breaks down. Of his lips pressing one last gentle kiss to their forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT CANNON FOR THIS AU!  
> I just wanna say that first. I wrote this bc I wanted to try my hand at a non happy ending fic. and this universe just comes so easilly for me so that's what i put it in. So Poison will be alive and just fine in every other chapter of this.   
> Im' sorry for how sad this was.  
> It's the saddest thing ive ever written and i cried the entire time haha. (well, saddest to date but no spoilers there ;)   
> Let me know if you guys hate me yet or not hahaha  
> <3


	12. Life is but a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update to make up for the pain <3

Kobra wakes up screaming, bolting upright with his sibling’s name on his lips. He’s shaking, hardly breathing as he all but falls off the mattress he was sleeping on.

It’s still dark outside but he finds Poison lacing their boots by the door, a granola bar hanging from their mouth. They look up, startled as he shouts their name and stumbles over to them.

They catch him by the shoulders, eyes wide and concerned as he starts hurriedly trying to warn them.

“Don’t go. You- you can’t. It’s- there’s a knife- ‘n you’re an idiot and- and the diner ‘s too far and- and-”

“Hey, hey okay. I’m right here, Kobes.” They pull him against their chest as he finally gasps in a breath. “I won’t go. It’s okay. I’ll stay here.”

“You- you-”

Ghoul comes through the door, a playful smile on his face that drops the second he takes in what’s happening.

“We’re staying here,” Poison says quietly, playing with KObra’s hair to try and calm him down. “Kobra saw something.”

Ghoul sighs but nods before heading back out to turn off the car. Kobra meanwhile tries to get himself back under control. But it’s hard. That was the most vivid, the most _real_ vision he has ever had. He’d felt like he was there. Watching it all happen in the back seat. 

And he’d heard Poison’s thoughts, which was a first. Heard them regret things that’s nowhere close to their fault. Kobra knows that they love him, they wouldn’t put up with this vision shit if not. And Jet forces them into accepting hugs plenty often. He’s told Kobra many times how glad he is that they’re his friends. 

The Girl literally thinks Poison hung the fucking stars. They’re her _hero_ and Poison lets her see a side of them that no one really gets to. Not even Kobra sometimes. ANd he’s okay with that because he can see how happy the Girl is when Poison compliments her on a drawing or helps her get away with things. 

Kobra sits up, just enough to free his hands and signs ‘love you.’

Poison smiles, a little relieved but also sad. But they’re alive and not bleeding out in the front seat of the ‘AM so Kobra will count his blessings.

“Love you too, kiddo.”

He lays his head back down, drained now that the worst of the panic has faded but also from how intense that vision was. The stronger ones always leave him the weakest and he honestly isn’t sure he’d be able to get up now if he tried. But if he falls back asleep, will he see another?

“Do you wanna go lay down?” Poison asks quietly.

Kobra shrugs. 

‘Yes and no.’

“How ‘bout we go lay down together. I’ll keep you company and that’a way if you fall asleep, no more visions.”

So Kobra lets them pull him up and guide him back to bed. He’s not ashamed to admit that he clings to them, the fear in him screaming that if he lets go the vision will come true. But thankfully, Poison lays down beside him and holds him like he’s five again, afraid of the Dracs that were patrolling their building. It’s probably a placebo thing, but he feels the panic subsiding now that they’re here. As if his big sibling really can protect him from everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is cannon. Kobra had a vision of what happened in the last chapter. So it didn't happen, but it Almost did. Poison is okay and Kobra will be <3


	13. Drop like a bullet shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *blood  
> *violence
> 
> PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> So this one is a little bit rushed, mainly because i got the motivation to write it today like a few hours before i have to go into work. I've quickly read over it and edited it the best i can, but it was written rather fast so please forgive me if it's not as fleshed out and detailed as normal. Also, there will be a second part to this, don't worry. I wouldn't end it there. I dunno when that part will be out but it should be soon. And, hopefully, it'll be a little longer and more detailed.

“Here.”

A can of power pup is set down in front of Ghoul, a fork already sticking out of the top. He cranes his head to look up at Jet, frowning as he does so. 

“ ‘lready ate.”

“This morning,” Jet replies, gesturing to the dark window beside the table Ghoul’s at. “ ‘s dark now.”

He almost protests but then his stomach growls and he’s reaching for the can anyway. But he knows that they’re running low, _really_ low. Hell, they’ve been rationing out food for weeks now because none of the markets are popping up anymore. Dracs and ‘crows have been damn near combing the desert lately, searching for fuck knows what. Everyone has had to hunker down and the few crews that haven’t stayed put have already regretted it. 

And they’ve got the girl so it was an unanimous decision to wait it out. They can’t afford to get into any big claps right now. 

So, Ghoul’s already _had_ his can for the day. He ate it this morning with the Girl coloring beside him. But he knows better than to bring that up. Jet has always done shit like this, given Ghoul a little extra even when it means he gets less as a result. It makes him worry but at the same time, he really appreciates it. None of the people in his other crews cared enough, in fact they usually stole his food because he was “small enough to not need as much”. Fuckin’ bullshit. 

But Jet really does care and so Ghoul knows there’s no point in arguing with him. 

“Kobra’s gone t’ bed,” Jet says, clearly relieved as he sits down beside him.

Ghoul hums, also glad that the kid is finally getting some sleep. It’s been weeks since he’s slept more than like an hour. He won’t tell them what the visions are about, or why they always catch him staring at them like they’re about to disappear. But whatever it is, it’s bad. It’s kept them all on edge. Kept them overly cautious. Maybe that’s a good thing. But Jet’s right, Kobra _needs_ to sleep otherwise he’s gonna make himself sick. 

“I think,” Jet continues, voice quiet even for him. “I think whatever he’s seen, it’s soon.” “You don’ think we missed it?”

He shakes his head. “No. Th’ only reason he’s asleep is ‘cause he’s completely exhausted. I doubt he’ll be up before noon tomorrow.”

“We hope.”

“Yeah,” Jet says softly. “Yeah I hope.”

__________________________________________

Poison calls a crew meeting the next morning and everyone, including a half-awake Kobra, gathers in the kitchen to hear whatever important thing that they want to say. Jet crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter, watching Kobra yawn and rest his head in his arms at the table. He hopes that he’ll be able to go back to bed after this. Witch knows he needs the rest.

“Okay,” Poison says, far less energetic than usual. “So, ‘s ya’ll know, we’re havin’ trouble gettin’ supplies ‘n shit recen’ly. But, I talked ‘t Doc ‘n he said there was a supply convoy running Guano t’day. Tha’s prob’bly why th’ City’s been all in our business. I say we jump it, see what we c’n get.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jet asks skeptical, but not harshly.

Poison’s eyes fall and, for a moment, he can see how heavy this decision is on them. He doesn't have to tell them that this is a bad idea, that there are so many ways this could go wrong, because they are already aware of the risks. Together they both turn towards the Girl, happily coloring beside Kobra at the table. She looks up when she feels their eyes on her and smiles.

“Yeah,” Poison answers, no trace of hesitation anymore. “Yeah. We gotta, Jet. There’s gonna be ‘nough on those trucks ‘t feed th’ whole fuckin’ desert. We can take what we need and then give th’ rest ‘t Doc.”

“ ‘n whatta ‘bout shortstack?” Ghoul asks from his position cross legged on the floor. “We takin’ her with us?”

Poison nods once. “Yeah, ‘bout time we put your shootin’ skills ‘t use, huh Motorbaby?”

The Girl grins and nods, making a pretend gun with her hand and acting like she’s shooting at Ghoul. He makes a loud groan and falls over dramatically. 

“I am dead now,” he states, giggling. 

But Jet is more focused on Kobra than the other two’s play fighting. Kobra sits rigid, as if he’s fighting to stay still. His hands shake and Jet watches as he takes an unsteady breath. 

Was this what he saw? If it was though, wouldn’t he warn them, tell them what to do in order to avoid whatever horrible thing he saw? 

“Kobra?” Jet asks softly, walking over to him while the other three laugh, oblivious. 

He lifts his head and, for a moment, Jet can also see the struggle behind his eyes just like the one behind Poison’s. But then it’s gone, masked almost instantly and replaced by a carefully blank expression. 

“What do you say? ‘S a good plan?”

“Yeah,” he answers hoarsely, unable to even look at Jet. “ ‘s th’ only one we got.”

________________________________________________

Kobra ends up, somehow, falling asleep that night. He’d been terrified to do so, afraid of seeing their fight all over again for what must be the thousandth time. But something must give because he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He dreams of nothing and wakes up with his head on Jet’s chest, wrapped in his arms and safe. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to get up because he knows that somehow, this run will go wrong. He doesn’t know how, or why. All he knows is that this run is what leads to his vision. What he saw won’t happen today, but it is soon. Very soon. Too soon. 

“Mornin’,” Jet slurs as he slips into consciousness. 

Kobra says nothing and tries to press even closer to him. It doesn’t work, they’re already completely tangled together, but Jet’s content little sigh as he holds onto Kobra a little tighter makes it worth it. 

He feels seconds from crying, overwhelmed by the fear that’s building inside of him. Even if they don’t die, they’re still going to be hurt. All of them. And they’re going to end up in the City. It’s terrifying and Kobra wishes he could tell one of them, just so he wouldn’t be the only one to know how this ends. But he can’t.

_________________________________

It takes Kobra by surprise, somehow.

One moment he’s shooting at Dracs after the supply convoy turned out to be way more heavily guarded than they’d thought. And they’d been doing well, taking out a lot of the Dracs without any screw ups so far. 

But then Ghoul shouts that he’s going to chuck a bomb and for them to all get down. He doesn’t get the chance to throw it, a laser blast pierces his shoulder causing him to drop it at his feet. Poison kicks the bomb as far as they can but they’re all still grounded by the blast.

After that, everything begins to go downhill. Suddenly there’s too many, too little cover and no way the four of them (three, because Ghoul’s down and isn’t moving) can take all these pigs out.

And, somehow, it gets worse. A shiny, bald head catches Kobra’s attention as he fires shot after shot into the wall of Dracs surrounding them. Korse.

The Exterminator yells something and all the Dracs stop firing. The air feels eerily quiet now that there’s no longer any laser blasts filling it. Kobra can hear Ghoul groaning as he struggles to stand, but at least that means he’s still alive.

And this isn’t what Kobra saw, isn’t even close. He’s confused and scared and, honestly, he just freezes. Korse looks right at him, smirking and motions to one of the Dracs on his left.

It comes forward, eerily slow, and in unison the Four raise their weapons again. Ghoul comes to stand beside Kobra, bleeding heavily from his shoulder but his face set in stone. On Kobra’s left, Jet stands with Poison on his side. They form a line, the Girl safely behind them. 

In the end, he doesn’t know who fires first. All he knows is that Jet cries out in pain beside him, dropping to the ground before he can help him. Then there’s a blast going through his stomach, so deep that he doesn’t even feel it as he falls. 

Barely awake, he hears Ghoul drop beside him. Kobra tries desperately to look for Poison, for the Girl. But he’s fading in and out. The blast was surely set to stun, otherwise he’d be dead by now, but he can’t find the strength to actually move his head and look.

He passes out right there, terrified and with images of his vision flashing behind his eyes.

_______________________________

Poison wakes with a kick to their side. They groan and try to keep their eyes open. Their chest aches from the blast that went through it but that’s nothing compared to the pain, the horror, that hits them once their vision comes into focus.

Korse stands above them, smiling wickedly. The Girl is restrained in his arms, kicking and fighting against him. Poison tries with everything in them to move, to get up and put a laser right between Korse’s eyes. But they can’t. They’re paralyzed still from the stun blast and they’re already slipping under again.. All they can do is watch as Korse beams down at them, enjoying this way too much.

“Keep. Running.”

And then everything fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, this one isn't my best but that's okay. It was fun to write haha  
> still, i'd love to hear what you guys think so please feel free to leave a comment or kudos to let me know! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *brief descriptions of broken ribs/ laser wounds
> 
> PART 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I apologize for this being shorter than i expected it to be. Life has been a little hectic lately. But this is, as of right now, the second part of this little arc and there should be a third and final part out soon. It may turn into more parts though bc it's honestly easier to write more, shorter things rather than one long one.  
> Hope you all enjoy!

Poison doesn’t know where they are. 

The room they’ve woken up in is dark, cool, but vaguely familiar. Their ribs ache and it takes them a long moment to piece together what happened. Once they remember the clap- that the Girl was _taken_ , they’re immediately trying to throw themself upright. They don’t make it far, the pain in their ribs feels like fire shooting through their side and they gasp before falling back down onto the mattress.

There is a knock at the door and they glance in that direction, panting from the pain and exertion as they notice Cherri Cola standing in the doorway. He looks hesitant, concerned, but doesn’t move inside any further.

“Poison? Are you awake?”

They make a groaning noise and try again to sit up. 

They don’t know how long they’ve been out, but the Girl is in the City and they can’t _afford_ to waste any more time laying around. They have to get her out, their broken ribs be damned.

Of course, they barely manage to sit through the pain and the way it feels like a knife is being jabbed into them every time they try and take a breath. They feel lightheaded just from this and a hopeless dread begins to fill them.

They failed. Their kid _needed_ them and they fucked up and now she’s _gone_ and it’s _Poison’s_ fault. They should have done more, fought harder. _Why_ didn’t they fight back more after Korse kicked them?

Cherri makes a resigned sound and at last steps into the room, coming over to where they sit and giving them a long look. He looks tired but also kinda like he’s worried. 

“I suppose if I ask how you’re feeling you’re jus’ gonna tell me to screw off, am i right?”

Poison huffs but they lack the energy to come up with a proper retort. 

“Are th’ others okay?” they ask instead, wincing at how bad their voice sounds. 

Cherri nods once. “Yeah. You were all hit with stuns, except for Ghoul. He got a regular shot in his shoulder that was pretty messy. But between Jet and Pony, they managed ‘t get him fixed up. Kobra’s fine and Jet’s exhausted because he apparently doesn’t know to stop healing someone when he starts getting lightheaded, but he’s okay too.”

“Why ‘m I th’ last one up?”

They feel the need to ask that. Have the others been waiting on them? How long has the Girl gone inside the City while they were laying here unconscious?

“The blast you took was on stun, but at such close range to your heart it did some nasty damage. Jet, of course, healed ‘ya. But there was nothing he could do for your ribs and I had to physically put him in the other room so he wouldn’t try anyway.”

Poison sighs in understanding. They hate when Jet gets like that, as if all of this is his fault. As if he’s the only one who can fix things. It makes them so sad, honestly. Seeing that fear and desperation in his eyes as he over exerts himself over shit like this. And they _get_ it, trust them they do, but they still feel bad that he’s probably beating himself up right now for not being able to completely heal them. 

They’re the leader, _they’re_ supposed to be the one to keep the other safe. The blame ultimately falls onto Poison and they _hate_ that Jet pushed himself so hard thinking that it was his fault.

With difficulty, Poison is able to sit up all the way and plant their feet on the floor by the bed. Breathing heavily, they allow Cherri to pull them up. There’s a moment where they sway and their head goes light, but it passes soon enough and they begin shuffling towards the door. Cherri doesn’t say a word as he lets them use his arm as balance, the most help they’re going to take. They know they’re being stubborn, refusing his help, but it was their own weakness that made this happen in the first place. If they hadn't gone down then maybe the Girl would still be with them. The least they can do is fucking walk on their own. 

Once they step into the main part of the station, Poison can feel everyone’s eyes on them but they ignore it. They slowly, painfully make their way over to an open seat and sit down heavily. 

They just so happen to be beside Kobra who, honestly, looks about as bad as they feel. He signs their name, clearly worried. They just shrug off his concern. Broken ribs are nothing, they’ve had worse, they’re sure.

“So _they_ don’ get yelled at for walkin’ but I do?” gripes Ghoul from across the room.

Poison looks over to him and takes in the fact that his shirt’s off, revealing clean white bandages wrapped around his shoulder as well as a faded stun mark on his ribs. But he’s smiling, even if it’s clearly just to keep everyone from suffocating over the weight of what’s happened. They mouth an, I love you when he catches their eyes.

They’re glad he’s okay.

Cherri smacks the back of Ghoul’s head, shaking his head.

“I couldn’t keep them sitting still if I _tried_. _You_ on the other hand are the perfect height to throw over my shoulder if I need to. So don’t get any ideas.”

Ghoul pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not fair.”

Despite themself, despite everything, Poison feels a tiny smile forming. It doesn’t last but it’s something.

Slowly, giving him plenty of time to tell them no, they wrap their arm around their brother’s shoulder. It makes their ribs twinge in pain but Kobra’s carefully neutral expression falls, his face crumpling as he leans into them. Frustrated, scared tears prick at their eyes too and all they can do is hold him and try and think of something comforting to say that won’t be a lie. 

“We’ll get her back,” They whisper intensely. “They can’t keep her. I won’t let them.”

“How?”

Ghoul’s no longer joking, his voice even and serious. It’s not like he’s asking because he doubts them, but more so that he doesn’t understand how they’re going to be able to pull this off.

She’ll be inside the City now, a place Poison swore they’d never go back to. But they know that they’re going to have to, for her. 

It’s impossible. Hell, it’s damn near a death sentence but they can’t just _leave_ her. 

Kobra taps on their leg and they look down as he starts signing. 

‘I saw this.’

Poison frowns and lets Kobra sit up, silently glad that his weight is no longer on their sore ribs. 

“Saw what?” they ask. “The clap?”

‘Yes. Or- more like the aftermath of it. We have to go into the City. We have to save her.’

“Go into the City?” Cherri cuts in, exasperated. “Guys you know that that’s impossible. Even if you could get in, how do you plan on getting the Girl and yourselves out after? You’ll all be captured.”

“Well we can’t jus’ fuckin’ leave her there.”

Cherri holds up his hands at Ghoul’s furious words. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- I guess I meant that you guys can’t hope to accomplish this on your own. You’re gonna need help.”

‘Help as in, you?’ Kobra asks, seemingly surprised.

Poison doesn’t blame him. Cherri fighting isn’t something they ever thought they’d see. Let alone him volunteering for a rescue mission that’s bound to end in a clap. 

“She’s family ‘t me too. All of you are. I’m not lettin’ you go alone.”

“What about Jet?” Poison questions, noticing the very distinct lack of their best friend in the room. 

“Well, none of ya’ll ‘re in any shape to be going on a rescue mission just yet. If you want any chance of this succeeding, you’re gonna have to hang tight. Let yourselves heal. Poison, you and Ghoul are the ones I’m most worried about. I doubt your ribs are gonna heal in time and Ghoul your shoulder is properly fucked. So just… give it a week? Okay? Just long enough to where you stand a chance.”

Poison wants to say no. To say fuck waiting and march their ass right into the City immediately. But they’re weak just from the walk to this room. Kobra’s way too quiet beside them and Ghoul’s hurt and- and Jet’s probably unconscious in another room because he always does this whenever he feels guilty over something. As much as it fucking sucks to admit, Cherri’s right. They’re in no shape to go save the Girl right now. 

They’re gonna have to wait, come up with a plan. Then, maybe they’ll have a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna say that I know poison was being a hypocrite there when they were thinking about Jet blaming himself. And that was sorta intentional. Poison feels like it's their Job to take the blame for these sorts of things. It scares them to think of one of the others feeling anything close to the weight of responsibility that they hold. And so they're dumb about it and worry over Jet while simultaneously doing the exact same thing themself.  
> I also just wanted to mention that Kobra tends to go non verbal after something makes him overly stressed, scared, over stimulated, or things along those lines. If he Has to, for the most part he can still speak. Unless it's really bad. But it's almost like a cool down for him where he doesn't force himself to speak and just tries to come to terms with whatever has happened/calm down. I just wanted to clarify that bc I have had him speaking in stressful scenes before and I wanted to make that a little more clear <3  
> Also also, yes Korse kept kicking Poison after they passed out again. He didn't want to risk them waking up and following him too soon. And he also is just insane and probably enjoyed t.  
> thanks for reading guys!! <3


	15. Be a Burning Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * violence  
> *blood and gore  
> * near death experiences
> 
> PART 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> This one is unedited and a little rushed, but i'm running on three hours of sleep and I just felt the need to write this. so yeah. I may edit more once i get some sleep haha. I hope you all enjoy!

The car is silent. The only sound is the low roar of the engine as Poison presses harder on the gas.

They’re trying to keep themself focused, trying to avoid thinking about the chances of this working. The chances of them all dying here today.

It doesn’t work and their death grip on the steering wheel is proof. To their right, Kobra is completely still, looking out directly ahead like he’s trying to keep his head empty too. Without looking, Poison knows Cherri is following in his truck. Even though it’s not much- five people against a whole building of Dracs and ‘crows is nothing- it does alleviate some of the stress gnawing at them to know that he’s here.

They turn into the tunnels almost on autopilot, gunning it as the pavement becomes smooth and straight. Ahead, about a mile away, is the gate where all vehicles are checked before they enter the City. The Dracs stationed there won’t let them in but that’s okay. Poison doesn’t plan on stopping to give them the chance to. 

In a blur, they blast through the gate, sending Dracs flying and hitting at least one. Poison barely spares them a glance, their body tensing automatically. This is the hard part, the part where any minute now the City will know that they’re here and they’ll have moments- if they’re lucky- to break into the building where the Girl is being held. 

If they take too long, she could be moved and they’ll be killed in the streets. 

Out of the corner of their eye, they watch Kobra check the charge in his gun and rub a spot on his side. They don’t have time to wonder if his stun shot is bothering him but they make a mental note to ask later. Ha. Later. As if the next hour is at all guaranteed.

In the back, Ghoul and Jet follow Kobra’s lead. They check their blasters with a practiced ease and Poison presses the engine harder as the end of the tunnel comes into view.

They can already see the artificial light of the City, how it’s too orange to be real. The sun will have no heat and the breeze will feel more like a fan than the actual wind. They hate it here, never in a million years thought they’d come back. But, for the Girl, it’s easy enough to push that down and focus.

The streets are empty as they skid out of the tunnel. Within a minute of Poison trying to navigate the once familiar streets, a squad of Dracs is on their tail. Ghoul leans out the window, shooting with his uninjured arm until the tires pop and the vehicle swerves and crashes. 

Then, the Headquarters comes into view. It’s separated from the rest of the City by a man-made river, with a large, guarded, bridge connecting it to the surrounding streets. Poison blows through this gate too and brings the car to a screeching halt. Beside them, Cherri comes to a stop as well.

And then they’re off, everyone jumping out of the cars and immediately firing behind them. 

The Dracs, for the most part, are easily picked off and by the time they’ve crossed the bridge no one is shooting. It’s too quiet, almost. Nearly too easy. But Poison tries to avoid that train of thought. 

From there, it’s easy enough to slip inside and take out the Dracs stationed at the doors. They move quietly but quickly through the sterile, never ending hallways. Poison doesn’t know where the Girl is but Kobra ends up in the front and he’s taking turns like he knows where he’s going. They assume this must be part of what he saw. 

They nearly run into Kobra when he stops abruptly. They’re about to ask him why the fuck he’s stopped, but then they glance through the glass walls and _fuck_.

The Girl is sitting on the floor, looking down at her hands like she’s bored. Poison doesn’t even think, they just step around Kobra and blast the door handle. It opens and then they’re all but sprinting across the room, dropping down to their knees beside the Girl and pulling her in. She clings to them, her shoulders shaking like she’s about to cry. 

All they can do is hold her. They hardly notice when Ghoul says their name. It takes Cherri placing his hand on Poison’s shoulder for them to even look up.

He smiles tightly but there is sympathy in his eyes. 

“We gotta go. They’re gonna know we were after her.”

They nod and wipe their eyes with the sleeve of their jacket before standing up. The Girl gives them a bright smile, like she wasn’t scared at all and she knew they were going to come for her. It makes their chest ache but they’re already moving again, pulling up the front with the Girl in the middle. Cherri whispers something about it being too quiet and Poison can’t help but agree.

“Kobra,” They mutter. “Did you see this part? How do we get out?”

His shoulders tense but he doesn’t turn around, or answer. That can’t be a good thing.

“Maybe what we need ‘s a distraction,” chimes in Ghoul. “ ‘r at th’ least a backup plan, case this all goes South.”

“I agree, actually. This doesn’t feel right, P.”

They nod at Jet’s addition and quickly try to organize their thoughts. 

“Ghoul, you brought explosives, right?”

They receive a snort in response. “What’d ya _think_?”

Rolling their eyes, Poison turns and walks backwards so they can face Ghoul.

“I need ya to try ‘n get all th’ weak points of th’ building. We’ll have to go out on the first floor so there should be support beams there, yeah?”

Ghoul’s smile is more than enough of an answer to how okay he is with that plan. 

“Jet. I feel like we can over power the pigs between th’ five of us ‘s long as we stick together. If we form a circle ‘n just push forward, we should be good.”

Cherri’s face pinches and it takes Poison nodding before he speaks up. 

“That won’t be enough. There’s gonna be a ton of th’ fuckers by the time we get down there. And we gotta set Ghoul’s bombs.”

“So then what?”

“We split up. I go with Ghoul, shield him as he plants the bombs. Meanwhile, you guys make your way through the lobby like your plan.”

“I don’t- Cherri I don’t think we should split up. What happens if something goes wrong? We won’t be able t’ get to each other.”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Cherri assures them, far more gentle than they were expecting.

That’s not what they meant but it also kinda _is_. They trust Cherri but they hate the idea of not being there to keep all their crew safe, especially Ghoul because he always seems to get hurt in claps.

“I got this,” Ghoul reassures, his smile genuine. 

All they can do is nod and turn back around. They can see the stairs they’re going to have to take at the end of the hallway and allow themself one moment to freak out. Whatever happens today has been terrorizing Kobra for weeks. Their ribs ache with each anxious break that they take but then the Girl’s hand slips into theirs, tiny and somehow enough to pul them out of their head.

They nod once to her, a silent thank you.

________________________________________

Jet’s first mistake is thinking that everything is going well. 

That’s when the first blast nearly singes the skin of his face as it passes by him. After that it’s all downhill.

Cherri shouts as a group of Dracs singles him and Ghoul out. From the corner of his eye, Jet watches Cherri throw up a shield as Ghoul hurries to set one of the bombs. But he’s forced to look away when he realizes that Poison isn’t beside him anymore. Neither is kobra.

Fuck. 

He turns quickly, trying to keep firing at the Dracs surrounding him and find the siblings at the same time. Thankfully the Girl is still beside him, though she’s crouched down at his feet in fear. 

He spots Poison off to his left, shooting rapidly, they look panicked. Kobra however, Jet only sees after he takes out a Drac that’d snuck up behind him. 

“Thanks!” Jet shouts, turning his attention fully to the Dracs. 

There’s so many. Way too many and Jet’s beginning to realize how bad of an idea this was. 

____________________________________________

Kobra tries to keep his eyes on everyone. To convince himself that maybe if he keeps an eye on them then nothing will go wrong and everyone will be okay. It, of course, doesn’t work like that.

He’s standing beside Jet, providing cover fire for Cherri and Ghoul, when he notices Poison freeze.

They’re just _standing_ there, their eyes wide and an empty Drac mask in their hand. He doesn’t have the time to shout for them to fucking _move_. Korse rounds on them from seemingly nowhere. 

Kobra screams as Korse shoves Poison against the wall, as he pushes his blaster into their chin. There’s a split second where everything pauses, where Kobra can see now and his vision playing out at once. 

And then the moment ends and Korse is pulling the trigger. 

A bright flash comes from the blast and Kobra watches in horror as Poison falls. He screams and charges towards Korse, uncaring of the Dracs shooting at him too.

He gets one good shot in before a blast pierced him and he hits the ground.

__________________

Jet cries out at Kobra drops. His eyes dart between him and Poison, frantically trying to figure out what to do. He can’t stop and heal them, not with this many Dracs. 

The Girl is crying loudly beside him, clinging to his legs just like she did in her first clap. And he panics. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Not with half his crew down. 

“Jet!” shouts Cherri.

He’s guiding Ghoul over, keeping him safely inside a shield. Ghoul is firing rapidly, a crazy look on his face that Jet hasn’t seen in a long time. 

They make it to Jet’s side and they both look to him for what to do next. With Poison… down- they’re _not_ dead- that means he’s in charge. But all of his attention is having to be focused on the literal fucking army of Dracs surrounding them. He can barely shoot, let alone think. 

Somehow, the four of them manage to find some cover. One of the reception desks has been cleared and it’s solid marble, offering decent protection from the rain of laser blasts flying past them. It gives Jet time to think, at the least.

“Are- are they-?” Ghoul chokes out, his eyes too wide.

“I dunno. We’ll them out. But first we gotta take out th’ pigs”

“How?” Cherri asks, before standing and shooting three quick blasts over the desk.

“I-”

“Jet?” 

The Girl looks up at him. There’s tears streaming down her face and she looks scared, but there’s also so much trust in her eyes. 

“ ‘s okay, honey. We’re gonna- ”

A blistering pain explodes across his back, the force of it sending him forward until his head hits the desk. Lights burst behind his eyes and all he can hear is a dull ringing in his ears before he falls unconscious.

_____________________________

Ghoul grips his gun so tight that his hand feels like it’s going to break. The Girl is behind him, clutching his jacket as he shoots at the Dracs that had somehow found their way behind them too. Meanwhile Cherri continues to try and thin the hoard of pigs in the other direction. 

At Ghoul’s feet, Jet lies still and bleeding. He’s trying not to look at the huge blaster wound in his back. Or the way the other two members of his crew are also lying unconscious just behind him. 

He tries desperately to think of anything he can do to fix this, to get out of this situation without anyone else getting hurt. He refuses to think even for a second that the others are gone. He can’t. Not right now.

“Ghoul,” Cherri says. “Please tell me you have a plan?”

“Go.”

Cherri spins around to face him. They only have a moment before he has to start shooting again, but Ghoul can see the understanding as it crosses his face. The only way _any_ of them are getting out of this is if Cherri takes the Girl and runs. He can protect her, get her to Doc’s van that’s hopefully waiting a block away. 

The others are down and this is the only way.

“Please, Cherri. Take her.”

The Girl clings to Ghoul desperately as Cherri tries to pry her away. Her cries pierce him like a knife but it’s with shaking hands that he pulls her clenched hands off his jacket.

“Go with Cherri, Girly. He’ll keep you safe.”

She’s still crying as Cherri gives him one last look before throwing up his shield and sprinting out the door. Ghoul fires as fast as he can, ignoring the Dracs behind him so he can focus on the ones blocking the exit.

He barely feels a blast hit his shoulder, barely acknowledges it when another hits him as well. It’s not until Cheri is past the glass doors and running down the sidewalk that Ghoul stumbles. His head sways but he fights to keep his gun up, to power through. He has to keep them back long enough for them to get to safety. 

In the end, it’s a well placed blast to his side that takes him down. It steals the air from his lungs and he lies there, gasping and choking on what is probably his own blood as the Dracs push past him. He passes out shortly after, one hand clutching the dog tags that Poison gave him this morning.

___________________________

An image flickers, then ignites.

At first, Poison doesn’t know what they’re looking at. But then everything seems to sharpen and focus, and they find themself staring at the Witch.

Her long, dark feathers are so much more stunning in person. She remains quiet but Poison can almost… feel her emotions as if she were broadcasting them. She’s sympathetic that they are here but calm because she does this quite often.

“Party Poison,” She says at last, her voice slow and easy. “It is good to meet you at last.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?”

Their words feel foreign, as if they’re hearing someone else say them. When they glance down, they can’t see their body. But they feel… alive. Energized. Very much not like they’ve just had their brains turned to burned mush.

“I have,” The Witch says, almost sounding amused. “Your work has most definitely caught my eye.”

“My work?”

“Your power, my child. You use it often now, do you not?”

“Well.. yeah, I guess. I jus’ try ‘n help wherever I can.”

“Exactly,” She says as one of her hands moves up to straighten a feather on her shoulder. “You have helped many lost souls find me, find their peace. Even those who would not normally have the chance to move on.”

“Dracs.”

“Yes. Your compassion for them, helping them to move on even after you’ve had to kill them to defend yourself, that is what gained my attention.”

All Poison can do is mutter a soft, “oh.”

They didn’t have to think about helping those Dracs. It just felt wrong to leave them stuck in a limbo when they had the power to help. 

“Am I dead?” they ask, instead of trying to figure out what to say to the Witch’s praise.

She laughs, not unkindly, and floats forward.

“Nearly. The blast missed your brain by mere centimeters. But you are dying.”

“Oh,” they say again.

It’s not like they weren’t ready to die to save the Girl. Because they were, always have been, but it’s just that they have no clue if the others are okay. 

“You’re thinking of your friends?”

“Yeah…” Poison admits. “Are they okay?”

The Witch’s face doesn’t move but Poison can feel her sympathetic look anyway.

“They are all at death’s door as well. But the young child, she is okay. The one with the blue streak saved her.”

“No. No they- they can’t-”

Poison gasps and they can feel the sob as it builds in their throat. The others can’t be gone. They _can’t_. 

“I am sorry, Poison. This was fated long before even my time. Your brother saw it happen. He and the others knew what they were risking.”

“Please,” Poison whispers. “Please. I’ll- I’ll give you anything. That’s what you do, yeah? A token of my life or whatever and you bring the person back. I’ll give you anything you ask. Please. Please bring them back.”

“That is very selfless of you.”

“I don’t care. You can take me but please, _please_ let the others be okay.”

“Child,” the Witch’s hand comes to their face, her embrace almost motherly. “I propose a different trade. I will restore you and help you to hold the others away from death.”

Poison frowns. “Like- hold them how?”

“Do you remember when you held onto Jet’s life to keep him alive long enough for you to bandage his wound?” Poison nods. “If you hold onto them long enough, I believe there is help coming your way this very moment.”

“Doc…”

“Yes,” the Witch says. “I believe that is what you call him. Though I know him by a different name.”

“You know Doc?”

“I’ve seen him a few times over the years, yes. Now go, Poison. It will take all that you have, but I am confident you can do this. I wish that I could help you more but the strings of fate are delicate and I cannot interfere any more than this.”

Poison doesn’t get the chance to reply before their eyes fly open and they’re gasping for breath. Their throat burns and they’re sticky with blood. Lightheaded but surprisingly strong for being brought back from the dead, they waste no time in letting themself slip into the shadowy version of their reality. 

They find Kobra immediately, barely breathing just a few feet from them. Their heart constricts but they grip tightly to his soul or life force or _whatever_ and hold on with all that they have. Ghoul is lying beside Jet, both of them are very nearly gone. They can feel the way each breath Ghoul takes makes more blood fill his lungs and how Jet’s upper back is just _gone_. The hole in Kobra’s stomach makes them physically sick and they squeeze their eyes shut. They can’t look at the others, not when they can _feel_ a ghosting of all their injuries, can feel the way their life is fading.

Poison doesn’t know how long they can hold this. Keeping Jet here that one time took so much out of them. Hell, it nearly killed them. But they don’t care. Right now all that matters is keeping them breathing, keeping their hearts beating until Doc can get here.

It’s a century and a millisecond before there’s shouting. Poison hears, rather than sees, Doc come in. There’s the sound of cursing and- and roller skates? Pony must be here too.

A hand comes to their shoulder and they manage to roll their head up enough to look at who it belongs to.

“Kid?”

They use all their remaining strength to lift their arm towards the others.

“Ghoul’s th’ worst,” They say in a voice that doesn’t sound like themself. It almost sounds like the Witch, speaking for them. 

Doc nods grimly.

“Okay kid. I got Pony loadin’ you guys up. Already called th’ hospital. They’re waitin’ on us. Just hang onto ‘em a little longer. The Girl is safe.”

They don’t know how Doc knows what they’re doing but they force all their remaining energy into holding on even tighter. Ghoul is slipping the fastest and they can feel the moment something in them gives. Unconsciousness hits them like a truck and the last thing they feel is their hold on the others breaking one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's gonna be another part after this, just to wrap it up. bc of course i'm not gonna just leave it at that.  
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments my dudes <3


	16. Ain't about the friends you made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * very mild blood  
> *doctors/hospitals  
> *Cherri has some PTSD. It doesn't get bad but some of the symptoms are mentioned in this
> 
> PART 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Posting the next part only a day after the last one? A miracle.  
> haha so this one I hadn't been able to get out of my head at work last night. I was literally writing it in my head while stocking shelves. So I had to write it when I woke up.  
> And here it is! More commentary in the end notes <3  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Cherri doesn’t sleep much that night.

How can he?

The hospital they’ve taken the Four to is loud and busy, doctors bustling around and the crews of other injured ‘joys wander anxiously. Cherri has been in this chair for hours. He’s sore and exhausted, but he doesn’t even think about getting up.

The Girl is finally asleep in his lap, her hands clinging to him even unconscious. It breaks his heart, that she had to see all of that happen. And Cherri has no clue how the Four managed to survive, by all means they should have been dusted on the spot.

But Doc had rushed in to get them without a moment’s hesitation, his electric wheelchair charged up for this specific purpose. And Cherri had just stayed in the back of the van while he and Pony dragged them out, trying to keep himself from slipping into memories he’d rather not remember. In the end, he was only able to keep them at bay because the Girl needed him. She won’t let him set her down, even now. And so he focused on making sure she was okay, rather than the onslaught of the past trying to smother him.

And it worked at the time, but now that he doesn't have anything to focus on, anything other than the water Doc threw at him and the maddingly slow progress of time spent waiting on news of the Four. Now that his distractions are gone, memories flash startlingly in his mind. 

Smiling faces at first. People he loved. Of course, those memories always end in red. Because everyone he gets close to ends that way. You’d think he’d have learned by now. Because even the Four aren’t immune to his bad luck, it seems. 

And he tries to convince himself that it’s just in his head, that this isn’t his fault just like it’s not any of theirs. It works. Only sort of.

“Excuse me?” 

Cherri looks up and finds a middle aged doctor with short blond hair and a kind smile. 

“Yes?”

“Are you here for th’ four teens brought in last night? Never caught their names, I’m sorry.” Instantly Cherri is sitting up straighter and nodding quickly.

“Awesome,” the doctor says. “So first things, they all pulled through. It was rough at first ‘n we had some trouble with the one shot in their chin. But they’re all out of the worst of it.” “ ‘re any of them awake?”

The doctor shakes their head. “No. Unfortunately they’re probably gonna be out for a day or two, at most. We have a lot of patients and so blood that we need for transfusions is rationed. They’ve all been given one transfusion though.”

Cherri nods again, mind reeling as he tries to latch onto the doctor’s words. They’re alive. They’re gonna be okay. His bad luck didn’t kill anyone else.

“Can I- can I see them?”

The doctor looks down at their clipboard as if they have to think it through. They pull a face, like they know it’s a bad idea but aren’t about to say no.

“You can see one of them. The tall, blond kid. The others aren’t ready for visitors yet.”

“Can I bring her?” Cherri asks, gesturing down to the Girl.

She’s out cold, probably exhausted from being kidnapped and then having to live through a firefight where her family nearly died. He doesn’t want to wake her but she deserves to see Kobra.

“I don’t…”

“Please,” Cherri says desperately. “She’s their _kid_.”

Finally, the doctor nods and motions for them to follow her. Cherri thanks her and rouses the Girl. She flinches and her grip around him becomes almost painful.

“Hey, kiddo. ‘S okay, just me.”

“Cola,” she mutters, her grip never faltering.

“I know sweetheart. But we get ‘t go see Kobra now. Do you wanna come with?”

This, at last, gets her to let up her death grip on him. She looks up at him, clearly hurting and confused and more than a little scared. Once again his heart aches and he wishes there was something he could have done to avoid all of this. 

“Kobra?”

“Yeah,” he says gently. “Th’ doctor says we can go visit him.”

She wordlessly lets him stand and adjust her so he can carry her without risk of dropping her. Her arms go around his neck as he allows the doctor to lead the way.

The doctor smiles as they lead him down the hall and to a seemingly random door.

“This is it. Now, they’re not awake yet and I really don’t expect them to be until tomorrow at the earliest. However, if they do wake up or show any signs of distress, please tell one of the nurses at the reception and they'll page me.”

Cherri nods his understanding and with that, the door is being opened and he’s stepping inside.

The smell hits him first, the disinfectant and bleach. This is one of the best hospitals in the zones but, like the doctor said, they don’t have anywhere near the amount of supplies or equipment as those in the City. So he should have known that only the rooms would be this sterile and clean, but the smell takes him back anyway.

He pushes those memories down harshly and instead tries to lift his gaze enough to see Kobra.

When he manages, he can’t stop the small gasp that comes from what he’s seeing.

The bed is small but it looks too big for Kobra anyway. There’s off white blankets draped over him- seeing as this place is one of the few to have reliable air conditioning. His skin is so pale it nearly matches the sheets, as cliche as it is to say. 

There’s a small cut on his eyebrow that Cherri doesn’t remember him getting, held together by a butterfly bandage. He can’t see the dressings for his blaster wound through the blankets, but he honestly doesn’t want to. 

It’s not until the Girl wiggles that he even remembers she’s here with him. He goes to apologize and carry her closer so she can see him too, but before he can she’s squirming out of his arms and dropping to the floor. She stands there for a second, staring at Kobra and wringing her hands together, before slowly walking over to him.

Cherri follows her on instinct.

“He’s sleeping?” She asks in a whisper, as quiet as he’s ever heard her be.

“Yeah, honey. He’s prob’bly gonna sleep for a while.”

She doesn’t reply. 

Cherri gets lost in watching the slow rise and fall of Kobra’s breathing, watching the way the IV line drips into the little thing in his hand. He’s gonna be pissed about that, about whatever medicine they’ve had to give him. But it’s worth it and Cherri is actually almost looking forward to that particular argument for once.

The Girl’s hand reaches for Kobra’s and she takes it very carefully, minding the tubes and clearly scared of hurting him.

They stand like that for a while, Cherri doesn’t know how long. But eventually the doctor returns and asks them to go back to the waiting room so Kobra can rest. 

__________________________________________

“Here,” Doc says, dropping a bag onto Cherri’s lap.

It startles him from the half-asleep state he was in and he glares halfheartedly at Doc as he sits up fully in the chair he was crumpled in.

“What is it?”

“Food. Change of clothes. You’ve been here two days, Cher. You gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I-”

Doc cuts him off. “When’s th’ last time you slept in somethin’ that wasn’t this chair?”

“Well I-”

“Or for longer than 20 minutes?”

“Hey, even normally I-”

“Cherri,” Doc says sternly, cutting off all his protests. “I know this place has bathrooms. Go find one, clean up. I brought th’ van t’day, there’s a mattress blown up in the back. Take a nap, eat some food. An’ then you can come back, okay?”

“But what if…”

The smile Doc gives him is more understanding than it should be. 

“Nothin’s gonna happen ‘t them while you’re out there. I’ll stay right here with th’ kiddo an’ if anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

Cherri sighs in defeat and stands with a groan as his back pops. 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“It better be longer than two or I will lock you in that van until you sleep,” Doc calls as Cherri begins walking away.

___________________________________

Poison hates waking up and not knowing where they are.

Like, last week for example. Waking up at Doc’s after the Girl was taken was horrible and they never wanted to experience it again. But here they are, alone in a quiet, dark room. 

They can’t seem to open their eyes all the way and even moving their arm feels impossible.

Whatever happened, it must have been bad. 

_Clearly_ , since they’re most definitely not waking up in the Diner. 

They must drift off again because what feels like seconds later they’re waking up to the sound of a door opening nearby. Poison opens their eyes and tries to focus on the blurry shadow moving about the room quietly.

Whoever it is comes by their bed and messes with something to their left. Confused, Poison tries to speak up so they can ask where the fuck they are and why they feel like they’ve been ran over by Ghoul again. 

All that comes out is a hoarse, broken sound and the pain it causes makes their eyes sting. But it gets the person’s attention.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you were awake. One moment. I’ll turn on the light.”

The light switch clicks and the room is bathed in gentle light. Someone in scrubs and short, obviously dyed blond hair smiles down at them.

Panic tries to push up at that. At the sight of a doctor that they’re clearly at the mercy of. But it’s the hair that keeps them from going fully into a panic. Doctors in the City don’t have hair like that. They must be in one of the hospitals in the desert. Hell, maybe even one Jet’s volunteered at.

Fuck. _Jet_. The others.

Are they okay? What happened?

They remember going into the City to save the Girl, the firefight that ended up happening. Then Korse’s smile and… nothing. Had they gone down?

“Can you hear me alright?” the doctor asks, and Poison manages to nod ever so slightly. “Great. So, I’m doctor Venus. Your friends brought you here after you and your crew were badly injured in a clap. I’ve been taking care of you guys for the past three days.”

Doctor Venus- fuck that’s a weird name- glances down at their clipboard quickly. “So , you’ve suffered a pretty nasty blast to your throat and chin. Thankfully, it missed your brain stem and major arteries. However, there was some damage to your vocal cords and throat. So you won’t be able to speak until that is healed up and there is, of course, the chance of your voice never returning. But you’ve already been healing nicely so the chances of that happening are slim. Now, since you’re up, I need to do some quick checks to make sure you’re doin’ alright. Do you by any chance know ZSL?”

Poison manages to sign a quick yes, and Venus smiles warmly at them. 

“Great! So, is it alright if I begin?”

____ _________

After Venus checks them over, Poison’s nothing short of exhausted. They can barely keep their eyes open, but it’s almost as if a fresh wave of energy washes over them when the doctor mentions allowing someone to see them.

‘Are the others awake?’ they ask hurriedly.

“Unfortunately, not right now. The blond one, I think his name was Kobra?, he was awake earlier.”

‘Oh,’ they say, trying to keep their disappointment hidden.

They miss their brother. They miss all of the others, honestly. 

“I’m sorry, hon. But there’s a man named Cherri who’s been waiting to see you. He’s been here the whole time and he'll be very excited to know you’re awake. There’s also a little girl here. Is it okay if they both visit for a little while?”

They barely manage to say yes through the shaking of their hands. Because the Girl is _here_. She’s _okay_ and she’s with Cherri. They don’t even care about the pain in their throat anymore. They just want to see her.

“Okay. I’ll go get them. Just remember, don’t try to speak or get up. You’ve got to rest.” ______

Less than five minutes later their door is opening again. Poison had, admittedly, almost fallen back to sleep in the meantime. They’re drained but wide awake the second they see the Girl come in.

She’s holding Cherri’s hand but is quick to notice them. She all but sprints over, her smile bright but her eyes just barely holding back tears.

“Poison!” she cries, reaching to grab their hand but hesitating.

They’re having none of that and so they lift their arm and take her hand instead. She barely holds back and a pang of guilt stabs at their chest. 

With their free arm, they sign, ‘ I’m not gonna break, honey.’

“But…” her face crumples and she hiccups on a sob.

They’re powerless to do anything as she breaks out into tears. They try and sit up, to pull her into a hug and show her that it’s okay. That they’re okay. But they're in too much pain, are too weak, and it devastates them that they’re the cause of her being in this kind of pain when they _can’t_ make it any better.

Thankfully, Cherri comes over and wraps her in his arms. She turns and buries her face in his chest, crying almost silently. 

“Hey, ‘s okay motorbaby.” He looks over to Poison and, understanding what he’s asking, they nod. “Here. How ‘bout this.”

He picks her up easily and she wipes her eyes on her sleeve, blinking at the two of them with red eyes. She goes very still when Cherri places her beside Poison on the bed. 

“But I don’t-”

‘You won’t hurt me,” they assure her, lifting their arm so she can curl up by their side.

There’s a second where she pauses but then she’s laying down and carefully laying against them. They sigh and wrap their arm around her, letting her lay her head on their chest. Soon they begin playing with her hair, twisting the little rings around their finger as her breathing slowly evens out and she stops crying.

Poison looks up to Cherri. He looks so sad and they wish they could talk so they could thank him properly. He didn’t have to come with them. To help them save the Girl and risk his life. Hell, he didn’t have to stay here with them afterwards either. But he did. And Poison is beginning to realize they’ve been wrong about him. He may not show it like everyone else, but he’s a damn good friend.

‘Thank you, Cherri.’

He frowns a little, eyes darting between the Girl and them a couple times. “For what?”

‘Helping us. Keeping her company. Just being here.’

This time, Cherri’s smile isn’t so sad.

“Of course. I’m stuck with you idiots, aren’t I?”

__________________

The next time Poison wakes up, the Girl is no longer in their bed. But she’s asleep on a cot on their right, snoring gently. They smile and glance around their room.

To their surprise, Ghoul is sitting on their other side. He notices that they’re awake and grins. “Pois!” he rasps, before coughing quietly.

They take in the bandages wrapped thickly around his chest, the small red stain on the right side. There’s no way in Hell he’s supposed to be up right now.

‘What are you doing here?’

Of course, the bastard just grins again. “They can’t keep me ‘n that little room, P. I’d go nuts. So I snuck out.”

They roll their eyes and shift over as much as they can. ‘Lay down, dumbass.’

He gasps like they’ve insulted him but crawls in anyway. He’s just as gentle as the Girl was, laying his head lightly on their chest and taking a couple of slow breaths. 

‘Are you okay?’ they ask, worried by the way they can hear how much effort he’s putting into just breathing.

“ ‘m fine. Got hit ‘n th’ fuckin’ lung and it sucks _ass_. But I only need those fancy breathin’ masks when I’m sleepin’.”

‘Ghoul,’ they sign, exasperated. 

“It’s okay. I don’ plan on sleeping.”

He shifts up to press their lips together. They’re in no shape to do much else, but it still leaves them feeling breathless in a good sort of way.

‘How’d we all get out?’ they ask after a while, curiosity winning over.

“Doc came ‘n got us. Took us here. He says that th’ ‘splosion took out the whole building. Guess ‘m bombs did their job.”

They’ve never heard him sound so sad when talking about an explosion. It feels weird.

‘ is that a bad thing? The explosion?’

“Huh?” he frowns. “Oh, no. ‘m glad it worked. Jus’ wish I could’a seen it. Bet it was cool as fuck.”

Poison snorts and then gasps from the flash of pain that brings. Ghoul shushes them and begins carding his fingers through their hair.

“Easy, P. Maybe you should get some rest, yeah? I’ll be here when you wake up.” They don’t want to but they’re falling to sleep anyway. But that’s okay. Their crew is safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? They're all okay. It's fine.  
> Also, I know I didn't show Jet but I can assure you he will get an entire part to himself next. However, I'm about to start working on my next big project (seeing as this was just supposed to be small hcs and I delved in Hard). So there's gonna be a week or two, maybe more, before I start making thigns for this Au again. I just wanna be able to put my undivided attention towards the start of my next fic that way it's perfect. or well, not Perfect but you know what i mean haha  
> also, also, these are Cherri Cola loving hours my guys. He is Dumb and forgets to take care of himself, so luckily Doc is there to call him on his bullshit. Did I ever mention they're basically adoptive brothers? Because they are.  
> And, we got a smidge more of Cherri's past too! No specifics but it's okay. Let's just say this hasn't been the first time he's waited at a hospitle to find out if someone(s) he cared about is going to make it. This is, however, the first time the answer was yes. :(  
> Full disclosure, all the medical stuff was from the top of my head. I bs-ed the hell out of it. So if there's anything super wrong, please just let me know haha. 
> 
> Oh! also, the Four are literal teens. I know I said Kobra was about 16 a few chapters back. So, for clarification, that makes Poison 18. Jet's about 18, but he doesn't know his actual birthday, just the season. (Winter) and Ghoul has no idea how old he is but he is about 15.  
> okay! So, I'll see you guys in a few weeks and, if you want, keep an eye out for something new by me. Hint: it's a sequel to something <3


	17. Don't Stop If I Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *panic attacks  
> *Someone assumes that another character(s) has died. but no one is dead
> 
> PART 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah So i know i said that this would be the last part of this little, mini series i've got in the middle of another mini series haha. But life happens. I wanted to post Jet's waking up first, before I get to all the stuff I have planned for the four's reunion. And so that's why this one is so short.  
> And I'm sorry how long this took me! I've started my other fic though so updates of this are probably going to stay a little but more stretched out. Which is my own fault for starting so many projects at once but it's fine. Everything is fine haha  
> Okay, this one is super unbetaed. Like. I wrote this in the last couple hours bc I had a miraculous 2 hours of competly free time today. It was great. But please forgive any mistakes that you see or just let me know and I'll fix them.  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Jet Star wakes up alone.

He doesn’t know where he is. All he can really tell is that everything feels muted and dull. Except the pain, this deep ache in his back. He doesn’t know what it is but it’s strong enough to take his breath away.

A few long moments are spent simply trying to breathe through it, even though each time he breathes in fresh pain shoots through him. He tries to open his eyes, tries to speak or even make a sound. But he can’t.

And that’s when the panic sets in.

The last thing he remembers is trying to protect the Girl. They were inside the City. And if he went down… well there’s only one place that he could be. He’s heard horror stories about the shit Better Living does to people, especially captured rebels. And someone as important as one of the Four? 

To put it simply, Jet’s fucked. 

He tries again to say something, to shout for help even if it’d be pointless. But he has to try. Maybe one of the others are nearby. Maybe he can get someone’s attention. 

At last, a small, grating sound escapes his lips. It doesn't even sound like him, more like a wounded animal than anything else. But it must do something because he hears movement somewhere in the room. 

He stills, terrified that he’s alerted the doctors to the fact that he’s awake and now they’re going to hurt him. But he’s powerless to do anything other than lay here. 

The sound of someone’s voice reaches him but his mind is going too fast to put together the words being spoken. Then a hand rests on his shoulder. He flinches but the hand doesn’t do anything. If anything it’s…. Comforting? The doctors wouldn't be comforting him, would they?

When the person speaks again, Jet is able to make out what they’re saying.

“Easy, Jet. You’re okay.”

He would frown if he could. The voice is familiar and whoever it belongs to sounds like they know him as well. Jet can’t relax though. Because he’s slowly realizing that if he _did_ survive, if somehow he’s not trapped in the City, then that must mean the others are okay too? Right?

If they weren’t, who would have brought him here. Wherever here is.

It’s a small hope, a feeble one, but he clings to it. The thought of the others not- the thought of losing them is more than he can handle. 

“Can you hear me?” the person asks again, soft and slow like they know he’s having a difficult time processing things right now.

Jet tries to nod but it sends spikes of pain through his back, leaving him gasping again. The hand on his shoulder moves to his hair, combing through it and telling him to breathe. Another voice joins the mix as Jet fades into unconsciousness, pulled under by the pain.

\-------------------------------------------

When he wakes again, he holds his breath. He’s expecting the horrible pain to come back. But it doesn’t. 

There’s an ache, as if his back has its own heartbeat, but it’s distant. He feels more numb than anything else. He’s not alone this time, Jet realizes. Someone is holding his hand. Whoever it is has a small hand, tiny even.

It takes a few attempts but he manages to open his eyes. Everything is dark and blurry at first, but slowly his eyes adjust and he can look around the room.

To his surprise, he’s somewhere he knows. He recognizes this room from one of the hospitals he helps out sometimes and that knowledge lets him relax enough to let his eyes roam.

There’s nothing special in the room. Just a tiny bed for him to lay in and a machine beside it. He traces the little IV tube as it runs into his hand, splitting into three separate lines. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before but it feels strange to be on the other end of it. To be the one injured. 

He turns his head to the other side of the bed, expecting only to see the blank wall of the hospital room or, if he’s lucky, a small window. To his surprise, there’s someone sitting in a chair beside him. 

Or, well, _two_ someones. Cherri is leaning forward with his elbow on the armrest and his fist under his chin. He looks to be asleep, his features completely relaxed for once. In his lap, the Girl is curled up. 

She’s not asleep and it’s her hand holding Jet’s. Her eyes go wide when he meets her gaze and she’s scrambling up on to her knees in seconds. The commotion wakes Cherri up and he looks terrified until he too notices Jet.

“Jet!” the Girl says excitedly, yet quiet, leaning forward with a big smile.

He manages what is hopefully more of a smile than a grimace in return and Cherri releases a long, exhausted sigh.

“Good ‘t see you, Jet. Someone here’s missed you a ton.”

“Yeah,” the Girl agrees, still far too quiet. 

And he understands. He was right beside her when he was… shot, or whatever actually happened to him. And she watched Poison and Kobra go down and-

 _Fuck_.

How the fuck did he _forget_ that? 

The memories come down on him like a ton of bricks, knocking the air from his lungs and sending his head spinning. The other two are _gone_. He watched them die and- and-

“ _Shit_ , Jet- don’t-”

He realizes belatedly that he can’t breathe, that he’s gasping around the constricting pain growing in his chest. But there’s nothing he can do. Not when his head keeps replaying those images over and over.

Poison being backed up against the wall. The way they’d fallen, completely limp. There’s no way they survived that. It’s just- it’s not possible. And the knowledge that his best fucking friend is just _gone_ \- it tears a hole in his heart that he swears feels like it’s real.

And- and Kobra. He- he _might_ have survived being shot like he was. But not for long. Not for as long as it’s taken for Jet to wake up. It’s got to be a few days at the least.

And he can’t fucking _breathe_ through the knowledge that he was supposed to fucking protect them! He doesn't even know where Ghoul _is_ , let alone if he’s okay. If he’s even still _alive_. And it’s _killing_ him because they’re his crew, his _family_ , and he _let_ this happen!

They’re all gone. They’re all _gone_ again. 

He can barely hear Cherri try and get him to breathe, or hear the Girl’s quiet sniffles. He’s making her cry. After everything else he’s put her through. And maybe that’s what does it, the realization that he’s failed her. Failed the others. Jet loses consciousness again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, please don't hate me. I promise everything will work out. And I'm sorry for the long wait only for more angst.  
> Also, since this has become a true mini series, I'm gonna go back and number the parts of this Sing story lline so that it's a bit easier to see that these past few chapters are in order and have the same plot.  
> So yeah, let me know what you think?


	18. from yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *mild blood  
> *mentions of injuries  
> *talk of death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> Here's the final part of this little mini series!  
> Idk which idea im gonna do next. I'm thinking either, more of the youngbloods in this universe or how ghoul gets his mouth scar. But yeah, I hope you all enjoy!

Jet isn’t sure how long he’s out of it but the next time he wakes up, the first thing he registers is the sound of people talking nearby. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying, and part of him wants to simply ignore whoever they are and just go back to sleep. He doesn’t see a point. Not when his crew, his _family_ , are gone. 

But, for some reason, something in him tells him to open his eyes. And so he does.

He has to blink harshly against the too-bright light for a long few moments but that gives whoever is in the room the time to notice he’s awake. The voices trail off and the room grows silent. A hand takes his, catching him off guard. He flinches and the person is quick to apologize.

Finally Jet is able to peer at his surroundings, squinting as four… no, five blurry figures come into focus. The one closest to him, now hesitantly holding his hand, speaks up. 

“You awake, Jet?”

He frowns, his mind foggy with whatever the doctors must have given him. Probably something for the pain and then something else to make him sleep. Whatever it is, it’s annoying to try and drag his thoughts into motion so it takes him longer than usual to realize he recognizes that voice.

“I know you?” 

He hates that it comes out as a question, that his voice sounds so rough. But the familiar stranger gets a little bit less blurry when he glances at them again. This time he can make out beautiful blue eyes and dirty bleach blond hair. But that doesn’t make any sense. That would mean that that is-

“Kobra?” he chokes out, suddenly much more awake.

Kobra flashes him a weak little smile. Jet tries and fails to figure out what to say at least twice, but really all that ends up coming out is something closer to a sob than any real words. Kobra squeezes his hand tightly and leans forward slowly to press his lips against Jet’s forehead. 

“We’re all okay,” he murmurs against him before pulling back slowly.

But Jet doesn’t understand _how_? How are the others alive?

Jet could have sworn that he _felt_ Poison dying. They had maybe a few minutes when he went down. The same goes for Kobra. But when he looks around the room, he notices that they’re all here. Including the Girl. 

Poison and Ghoul are sitting down in separate chairs- which must mean that they _were_ in fact injured and Jet isn’t just losing his mind. It’s then that he notices how Poison has most of their neck covered in thick, white bandages but their eyes are bright with relief. Ghoul, on the other hand, looks in slightly better shape than them but the padding of bandages under his shirt gives him away. That and the thin little tubes under his nose.

The sight makes worry shoot through Jet- because the little shit somehow always manages to fuck up his lungs even _more_ \- and he struggles to drag himself up into something close to a sitting possition. Kobra protests at first but ultimately helps him the rest of the way up when his arms give out under his weight. The pain in his back flares up, but it’s nothing compared to what it was the last time, and so it is easily ignored as he lets his eyes rake over the others again. 

Poison smiles when their eyes meet. It occurs to him a second later that they probably aren’t able to talk after getting shot like that. And something in him breaks a little at that realization. Because he _understands_ how it feels to suddenly lose something like that. He’s still getting used to only having one eye. But Poison without their _voice_ , that’s something that’s never really crossed his mind. He refuses to think about it too much right now, not when they’re in the room. 

He studies Ghoul next. Even though he’s too weak to really use his power to see what kind of shape the others are in, the struggle in the way Ghoul is breathing gives him away. He’s too pale and he gives Jet his normal toothy grin, but it’s different. He’s hiding how bad he feels.

Almost afraid of what he’s going to see, he looks over to Kobra. The chair he’s sitting in makes it so Jet has to search a couple times to find the padding of bandages under his shirt. But they’re there. He’s very pale as well and he looks like he’s seen a ghost with how his eyes dart around the room every so often. His other hand, the one not shaking in Jet’s, is wrapped protectively around his middle.

Slowly, he turns his eyes towards the Girl. She has her robot sitting up in her lap but she’s as still as Jet’s ever seen her. Quiet and waiting. 

She’s unharmed though and that in and of itself unravels some of the worst of the anxiety twisting in his stomach. 

“You’re okay?” he asks them all, voice shaking.

“ ‘s gonna take more than tha’ ‘t get us, Jet. You should know that.”

Ghoul’s tone is joking but Jet can see how it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He wants to ask how the hell they’re all here right now, try and piece back together what happened. But now isn’t the time. They can go back over all the gritty details later, preferably when the Girl is asleep or in another room. He’s already made her cry once. He doesn’t plan on doing it again.

So Jet tries to laugh, makes it as believable as he can. The Girl seems to relax and she glances down at her robot. Then she’s standing up and coming over to him. It’s obvious that she doesn’t know what to say and the tension on her face is too pained for someone so young. It makes his chest ache at the thought of what she’s just been through, at how much she saw. 

They told themselves that they were giving her a better life. One with happiness that was real and genuine, and not from a prescription. Where she could be herself and know that she was loved more than anything. But then that undying love hit a wall. Because hearing that they’d do anything for her and then watching them all be shot down for her are different. It's Left her quiet and scared. _Traumatized_ is the word his mind throws at him. And it’s Jet’s fault. He should have protected his crew. 

That, of course, begs the question, _would_ she have been better off with another crew? People who could take care of her that weren’t so high on Better Living’s shit list. He hates that the answer is yes. 

She wouldn’t have been on the run her whole life. Maybe she’d have actual friends her age. Maybe… maybe then she wouldn’t have been fucking kidnapped under their watch. 

But he can’t change the past. Jet wants to apologize, to pull her up in his lap and hold her close and keep her safe. To let her know that she isn’t alone, that they _didn’t_ leave her. That none of this is her fault. But he can’t. And it’s not just because of his injury. 

He can’t promise her something like that. He’s always known that, that they were probably going to die young. It comes with this life. But it had never really sunk in who they would leave behind if they did. Not until now.

So how can he reassure her that everything is okay and that she’ll never have to go through this again, when he _can’t_ know for certain. Right now Better Living could find this hospital and blow it up, and there would be _nothing_ they could do. Nothing is given out here but _Witch_ Jet wishes that it was.

He’s pulled from his thoughts, thankfully, by the Girl wordlessly reaching up and placing the robot in his lap. She tucks it into the blanket pooled around his middle and gives it a small pat on it’s head as Jet watches in confusion.

“To make you feel better,” she supplies in a timid voice.

Jet has to bite down the tears that threaten to spring up at that, at how she’s trying to make him feel better in the only way she knows how. Kobra squeezes his hand, reminding him that he should say something instead of sitting here sniffling. What did he do to deserve the Girl? 

“Thank you, Girly,” He says sincerely. “I feel better already.”

Her eyes go very big and she fidgets with her fingers. “Really?”

He nods. “Really. I love you, honey.”

“I love _you_!”

________________________________

A few hours later, the Girl is curled up asleep beside Jet. The others, plus Cherri and Doc, are sitting around the room. Everyone’s quiet, lost in their own heads.

It’s strange, because normally Jet never gets a moment of peace. Now, he kind of misses the rowdiness.

But it’s understandable, really. Ghoul’s usually the main instigator of most of the chaos they have to endure. And right now he’s grumpilly sitting across the room because the doctor came in and scolded him for walking around with a punctured lung.

Hearing that made Jet’s heart stop for a second. Because hearing the doctor tell Ghoul that just because he was breathing better doesn’t mean the hole in his lung is completely closed, that Ghoul had already made it worse by walking around… _fuck_. It makes Jet itch to heal the idiot. All he’d have to do is touch Ghoul and even in his current state, he’d probably be able to make a good amount of progress.

Because Ghoul won’t stay down. He _never_ does and it’s given Jet a heart attack many times. He doesn’t know how he does it, just straight up ignores whatever serious injury he has in favor of doing something stupid like working in the shop.

And he still has half a mind to chew Ghoul out for not resting. But all of that fizzled out when Jet found out he was only out of bed so he could go find the others. If Jet had been physically able when he first woke up, he’d have done the same. He can’t fault Ghoul for that. Even if he wants to throttle him for being so stupid.

The doctor, Venus, has come in multiple times today, checking on each of them in turn. Jet learns that he’d been right, Poison can’t speak but that they’re recovering fast.Hearing that is a welcome relief.

He also finds out that Kobra is also not supposed to be up yet, but that he’d begged the doctor to let him come into Jet’s room after Cherri mentioned the whole- Jet having a mini-breakdown thing. Which is fair. Another thing he can’t fault.

Speaking of Cherri, he and Doc have been just as uncharacteristically quiet as the others. There’s so much that Jet wants to say to them, to thank them for saving their lives. But he can’t seem to find the right words to do so. A simple thank you doesn’t cover it.

Jet shifts on the mountain of pillows used to prop him up, wincing as the tender wound on his back is pulled. That’s another thing he found out, that he was shot in the back. Apparently it was pretty gruesome and even Doc looked squeamish when talking about it. Jet feels like it’s more of an annoyance at this point really. He’s mostly just sore and tired, and it’s not like that part of him wasn't already scared to pieces.

Kobra, who hasn’t moved from his side, glances away from the comic in his hand to flash a concerned glance at him. 

“You alright?”

Jet nods. “ ‘m fine.”

He says that, and he almost believes it, but there’s that little nagging voice in the back of his head insisting that this feels familiar. This pain. Because blaster wounds are very similar to burns and if Jet were to focus, to let his guard down, he would be able to feel the flames biting his skin agan. But he doesn’t relax for that very reason. That’s in the past and he has already made peace with what happened, as much as he can anyway. There’s no point torturing himself with things that have already happened when there are much more pressing matters. Like how in the ever loving _fuck_ the four of them are still breathing.

“What happened?” Jet asks, just loud enough for everyone to hear but not enough to wake the Girl.

Poison winces and looks away, Ghoul’s arm immediately wrapping around their shoulders silently. He won’t look at Jet either. So he turns to Kobra, growing more afraid by the second of what he is going to hear.

“I- um…” Kobra swallows and his eyes dart down to his hands. “I don’ remember much but we managed ‘t piece it together pretty well. What d’ you remember?”

Jet’s chest feels tight as he recalls the events inside the City. He tries to keep it as brief as possible but the memories still come rolling back into focus. 

“Poison going down… and then you. After that it’s hazy. Ghoul and Cherri were with me. Girly asked me something? Or I was telling her something and then this huge flash of pain and… then nothing.”

Kobra doesn’t reply, doesn’t look like he _can_ , but he does bring his hand up to start gently playing with Jet’s hair. The familiar sensation is a stark difference to everything else that this conversation is bringing and he allows his eyes to drift closed. He’s still so tired.

“After you got hurt,” Ghoul’s voice begins abruptly, as if it was a sudden decision. “I- I had Cherri take th’ Girl. He got her out safe.”

Something about the way Ghoul says that doesn’t make Jet feel any better. Not like it should.

“And you?”

Ghoul smiles, but it’s not his usual beaming smile. This is tight and sad. 

“I gave ‘em time ‘t get out,” is all he says.

The look on Cherri’s face says more though. Jet begins to realize that Ghoul didn’t just hold off the Dracs so they could get out. He sacrificed himself and, from the way the doctor was talking, _barely_ survived, all so Cherri could get the Girl out. And yet here the little bastard is, not even taking credit for it.

Fucking _Witch_ Jet doesn’t know if he wants to strangle Ghoul for being so reckless or cry. Maybe both. Maybe that’d get the point across if he cried his eyes out while strangling the idiot. 

“How did we get out then?” 

Jet almost doesn’t want to ask but at this point he can’t stop now. No matter how badly hearing these things make him want to gather the others up and lock them away somewhere safe. It’s his job to protect them and, clearly, he can’t do that here. 

At last, Poison looks up. They’re paler than they were a second ago and Jet can't help but notice the way their hands shake as they start to sign.

‘Think it was the Witch. I don’t… I don’t remember, exactly. But I feel like I saw her.”

“Like, she talked to you or she brought you back?” Jet asks.

“Yes to both? I really don’t know. I can barely see her face but I know that I saw her, and that she told me something important.”

“But you don’t remember what it was?”

Poison shakes their head gingerly, the movement awkward around their bandages.

“But I do know that she bailed us out. We would have died and she either, brought us back for some reason, or kept us from dying long enough for Doc to save us.”

Doc, oddly silent, nods. His arms are crossed over his chest and Jet can’t figure out the strange look in his eye. It’s almost like he knows more than what Poison is saying. But this revolves around the Witch and so Jet knows better than to ask questions. 

Instead he sends a small thankyou out to Her, repeating it in his head a few times so that he’s certain she gets it.

“Do you think whatever she told you was important?” Kobra chimes in.

‘Maybe? I don’t know. But I figure if it was, then she would have let me remember it.’

Kobra just agrees absently but his mind is clearly far away. Concerned, Jet says his name a few times to get his attention. When Kobra blinks and looks at him, he feels his heart drop.

“Hey,” he whispers, letting his hand brush the side of Kobra’s face. 

Kobra squeezes his eyes shut and Jet nearly pulls away, thinking that he’s only making things worse. But Kobra soon brings his own hand up to place over Jet’s as he leans into the touch. 

“What I saw was wrong,” He mumbles, so quiet Jet nearly doesn’t hear him.

“ ‘s that a bad thing?”

Kobra’s laugh is wet but his smile is genuine. “No. ‘s a good thing. I saw us goin’ in alone. I think we- we were gone. An’ then we just pop back up. Either way th’ Witch helped. But I just- I like this version better.”

Jet can’t help but agree. But he can’t seem to get his words to work so he instead leans forward until their foreheads are touching. Kobra’s breath stutters and Jet manages to sit up enough on his own to pull him into his arms.

It’s difficult with the wrappings on his back and how Kobra can’t exactly bend, but they make due. And Jet feels the last of the dread pour out of him, washed away by the knowledge that the others _are_ safe. Hell. Maybe the Witch _is_ looking out for them.

________________________________________

“How long ‘till we c’n get outta here?” Kobra asks as the doctor adjusts something on Jet’s IV.

He’s asleep right now, snoring softly and looking at peace for the first time since they got here. Kobra hasn’t found it in him to leave his side and so the doctor caved and allowed the two of them to share the bed. It was either that or Kobra sleeping in the chair. He’s not leaving. 

The doctor hums as he thinks, working quickly to make sure both he and Jet are doing okay. While Kobra’s feeling much better, he’s not able to walk very far on his own yet and Jet hasn’t managed to stand. He knows asking this is soon, they’re all still healing, but he also can’t wait to get out of here.

The sooner this is over and he can go home, the better.

“I’d say that you and Poison are nearly ready to be discharged. So long as you have a safe place to go with lots of clean water, food, and preferably air conditioning.”

The diner has all of those things and Kobra can’t help but get his hopes up. He wants to go home.

“But,” the doctor adds in a cautionary tone. “Unless you have the equipment to keep Ghoul on oxygen, I’m afraid he’s going to be staying here for another week at the least. He was very lucky this time but if he were to make his injury worse again, which going without backup oxygen so soon would almost definitely do, then this time it may prove fatal.”

Kobra swallows around the lump in his throat. “And Jet?”

“He’s healing very well. But similar to Ghoul, unless you have the capabilities to keep him on bedrest and the means to properly clean his wound then it would only make him worse.”

The disappointment must show on Kobra’s face because the doctor sighs and sets down the clipboard in his hand. He sits down in the chair beside Kobra, appearing genuinely apologetic.

“I understand that you are ready to go home and I can’t really stop you if you were to decide to leave. But remaining here and receiving the care that you need is the best way for your four to make a full recovery. You’re all very lucky to be here right now and so, my professional advice is that you take some time off. All of you, stay here. Rest, relax. You just went up against Better Living’s best and won. You deserve a break.”

Kobra doesn’t have an answer to that. Because yeah, they won. But they also almost died and- and fuck. He has a point. They do deserve to take some time off. To not go back to the diner and stress about staying safe and weather or not they have enough food. 

They’re all safe here and they’re getting three whole meals a day. And a week or two off doesn’t sound all that bad when Kobra’s stomach aches every time he tries to sit up. 

The doctor leaves shortly after that, for which he’s grateful. His head is running too fast for him to really give an answer. But he knows that they should stay. It’ll be hard to convince the others to take a vacation- ha. Does it count as a vacation if they’re recovering from nearly dying?

Kobra tilts his head to look at Jet. He’s sleeping soundly and if it weren’t for the IV going into his arm, he could almost imagine that Jet’s just napping in the diner. That it’s just another day. But it’s not. This is a day that they almost didn’t have. 

A flash shoots through his mind and then he’s being pulled into a vision. But it’s more gentle than normal. It doesn’t feel like trying to breathe underwater. It’s just… almost a dream.

He sees the Girl, riding on Poison’s shoulders. They’re both older. Poison looks stronger, healthier than he’s ever seen them. He watches them do a couple of laps around the diner, laughing about something that Kobra can’t hear. 

Then it changes. At first, there’s nothing. Slowly, Kobra is able to make out a face.

He’s seeing things from his own point of view, sometime in the future. Soft, brown eyes gaze into his and instantly, he knows that this is Jet. But he’s older. There’re wrinkles around his eyes, like he’s been smiling for too long, and the short beard he has is starting to go grey.

Kobra feels it pull in his chest. But in a good way. He’s not sure if it’s the future him or the present him, but there’re tears in his eyes. Because right here is proof that they are going to grow old. That they have a lifetime ahead of them. And that’s something Kobra has never allowed himself to hope for. To even humor the idea of.

But here it is. Right in front of his face.

Future him is laying on his side, laying in their bed. Jet is sorta curled up into him, his head tilted back so he can see Kobra’s face. They’re talking about something. There’s no rush. Just a private moment that makes it feel like the only people in the world are the two of them.

The vision ends then and Kobra has to close his eyes as his head spins. But it’s nowhere near as strong of an effect as usual. Usually that means the vision isn’t as likely to come true. But not this time. He can feel it in his gut. What he saw is written in stone. 

They’re going to survive and they’re going to be happy. Kobra drifts into an easy sleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes i am a sucker for those things of like, someone seeing themself growing old with the love of their life. And if anyone deserves that it's Kobra and Jet. (also yes Ghoul is still there in the future. Kobra just didn't see him. The witch was being nice and kept the vision as easy on him as she could)  
> let me know what you guys think!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *medicine mention in first authors note  
> *implied past child endangerment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> so this is a *hesitant* easing back into writing again! I've been on a break for about a month now and I think I'm ready to get back into the swing of things. Mainly I had to take a break because my mental health was sorta going downhill and I had to take a step back. But, no worries I am doing pretty good now. I'm gonna be on anxiety medicine soon and I am transferring to a job closer to my apartment! So, if all goes well I'll have more time to write hahaha  
> But yeah, I may go back onto the break if I need to but as of right now I'm going to be trying out posting semi-regularly again!  
> My thougths the past couple of days have been filled with Fun Ghoul. I love the little jerk and I felt the idea for this short little chapter while i was at work today. So, please forgive how short it is, I have some longer ones planned/in progress.   
> Okay, I hope you all enjoy!

Ghoul’s belief in the Witch is... shaky at best. He doesn’t feel like she’s there most of the time, how could she be? If she was watching over them, then why did all these bad things keep happening to him and his crew? Other times, it’s harder to shrug off moments when he _knows_ that he shouldn’t still be standing after getting too close to a blast. Or when he somehow manages to stretch the gas in the ‘Am an extra two hours when it should be empty.

What he doesn’t know is that the Witch _is_ there. She watches over him and his crew, a little more closely than she does most other rebels. The future in her eyes is blurry, always shifting and changing. But one thing is clear, the Four are important. They hold the keys to something very special. And she knows that she has to protect them, as best she can. And besides, who do you think showed Ghoul how to turn into animals in the first place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *not pictured: the Witch teaching toddler Ghoul how to transform into a bird like her. i mean, even if he was Super lucky, there's no way a baby survived being alone in the dessert. there were years long stretches of him being absolutely alone. Of course, he thinks it's just luck but really she was watching over him the whole time


	20. Love is not like anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SLIGHTLY OFF FROM CANNON!  
> -a little more on that is in the first author's note
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *blood and injury  
> *near death experiences  
> *self sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So yep, getting back into this full swing, officially. I've had this one written out for months now. I wrote it purely for myself and so if it's a lot like other stuff I've written, that's why. I didn't try anything new, I just went for the stuff I enjoy writing. So, this ISN'T cannon for this au. There's some small differences that make it be an outlier, almost like an Au for this Au hahaha. Basically though, it's an alternative way of how Poison and Ghoul finally get together. Complete with angst and two idiots in love.  
> I have a couple more little oneshots like this already finished and I'm *trying* to hold off on posting them back to back, but I may end up posting them all by the end of the week haha.  
> A huge thank you to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for reading this when I wrote it and somehow Remembering the day i sent it to her so I could find it in my deleted history in docs! without her this would have been lost forever haha

Kobra leans back against the counter, carefully holding the baby in his arms as he gives her a bottle. Her head rests against his chest and her eyes are huge as she looks up at him, perfectly calm. 

He didn’t think he’d get this attached to her, you know? Babies are loud and particularly fond of prolonged cuddling. And it’s not that he isn’t loud and cuddly sometimes, just not always. It's one of the few things that really just send him straight downhill. He likes his space and he needs things to be quiet more often than not.

And yet, as stressful as having the baby in their lives is, Kobra knows now that he wouldn’t give her up for anything. She’s family.

She trusts them so much, relies on the four of them for literally everything. And maybe that’s why Kobra feels so protective of her, why he watches carefully to make sure she’s comfortable and isn’t having problems eating at this angle. Because he has no idea what he’s doing, not a clue how to take care of a baby. 

But it’s moments like this one, where there’s just so much trust and love in her eyes that it takes his breath away a little bit, makes him think that maybe they’re doing an okay job. Maybe she’s going to be just fine.

Of course, the stillness of the moment shatters the second Poison walks in the door. Kobra flinches as he hears it slam shut and the tell tale sound of his sibling stomping his way. He gives the baby a pleading look, praying that maybe she’ll choose now to do some of those ear piercing screams she does sometimes. But no. For once she’s quiet and calm, drinking away at her bottle happily. She’s a traitor. But a cute traitor so he can’t be mad at her.

Just as he expected, Poison comes storming into the kitchen seconds later. Their hands are on their hips and there’s a noticeable lack of traded items in their arms. Surely they didn’t come back with _nothing_. 

Kobra raises one of his eyebrows, looking his sibling up and down. 

“Oh shut it,” they grumble, yanking off their jacket and chucking it off to the side.

When they turn back around he notices the faint smell of smoke in the air the same time he notices the graze in their arm. It doesn’t look to be deep but it’s bleeding sluggishly into the torn fabric of their shirt. 

‘What happened?’ he signs, movements a little clumsy since his hands are busy with the baby.

“Nothin’. Where’s Jet keep th’ bandaids?”

Kobra sets the bottle down on the counter and gives his sibling a look. 

‘What happened? Where’s Ghoul?’

Poison huffs and marches across the room, opening random cabinets in search of Jet’s stash of bandaids. Of course, Kobra knows exactly where Jet hides them. But until Poison tells him what’s going on, he’s not going to help them. 

They’ve been a jerk recently, specifically to Ghoul but to all of them really. Poison even snapped at the baby. Sure, her crying had been extra loud that day but _seriously_. She’s a baby. You can’t expect her not to cry. 

Needless to say Jet just about tore Poison a new one and since then they've mostly kept their anger or whatever the hell is going on with them aimed at Ghoul and away from the baby. Kobra feels bad for him, honestly. Ghoul hasn’t even done anything. Literally it was as if one day Poison woke up and decided that he was like- the most annoying person in existence. It makes no sense but Jet says Poison’s just being an idiot whenever Kobra asks. Whatever _that_ means.

“Fuckin’ ‘course Jet ‘d be good at hidin’ shit,” Poison mutters under their breath as they crouch down to search the cabinets to Kobra’s right. “You could _help_ you know.”

‘Nope.’

They huff and curse some more before finally giving in and facing him. 

“What do I ‘av ‘t do t’ get you ‘t tell me where it is?”

Kobra fights off a smirk. He knew all he had to do was wait them out. Poison may be hot headed, but they’re predictable.

‘Where’s Ghoul? And why didn’t you get the stuff you were supposed to trade for?’

Poison winces, like actually winces, and looks away. This makes Kobra frown.

‘What did you do?’ he signs slowly, watching the way his sibling seems to shrink under his accusation.

They wouldn’t just _leave_ Ghoul…. Would they? 

Poison is an asshole, trust him he _knows_ , but they wouldn’t intentionally hurt Ghoul. At least, he doesn’t think they would. 

“Got in a fight with Ghoul,” Poison admits weakly. “And I might ‘a said some shit and he uh…”

‘He what?’ Kobra presses when it looks like they’ve hit a wall in their explanation.

“I told him to get lost and- and he did.”

Kobra’s mouth hangs open. Of _all_ the stupid, idiotic things his sibling could do. Telling Ghoul to leave and then _letting_ him go _has_ to be at the top of that insanely long fucking list. Fucking _hell._

Ghoul’s still a fucking flight risk because he thinks that he’s one mistake away from being kicked out of the crew. Jet has to remind him almost _daily_ that they do in fact like him and want him to stick around. Two fucking months ago he almost died because he tried to hide that he was sick so he wouldn’t bother them!

But this? Sending him off like he’s something their crew can just throw away?

Kobra has been angry with Poison before. He’s punched them square in the face before. But not like this. He’s seconds from setting the baby down and decking them here and now. The only thing that saves them is that Jet walks into the room the next second.

There’s paint on his face and a large smear on his arm. His hair is neatly tied up and out of his eyes. Despite everything, Kobra’s stomach does a little flip at the sight of his boyfriend. 

“ ‘s goin’ on?” Jet asks, stopping in the doorway and taking in the scene around him.

Poison shrugs but winces as it pulls the graze in their arm. Kobra rolls his eyes, because they deserve it. But Jet doesn’t know about them sending Ghoul away. He just gets that concerned look in his eyes and asks Poison to show him the injury. 

Somehow Kobra manages to not go off on their sibling the whole time Jet heals them. He waits until Poison’s shrugging their jacket back on and Jet’s washing his hands before he taps on the counter twice to get their attention.

‘Poison kicked Ghoul out.’

It might be childish for him to tattle like this or whatever. But he seriously doesn’t care. He doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with his sibling but they’re not listening to him, so maybe they’ll listen to Jet instead. 

And, from the look of disbelief and anger on his face, Jet’s about to go off. He’s insanely protective of Ghoul and even if Poison isn’t afraid of Kobra, Jet being angry is something that even they know better than to test.

“You did _what_?”

“Well I-”

“No,” Jet snaps, throwing the hand towel down and whipping around to face Poison. “No excuses. I want the truth. What the fuck did you _do_?”

Poison looks down at their feet.

“I was teasin’ ‘im ‘cause he didn’t take out as many Drac cars ‘s I did on th’ way ‘t th’ Market. And then we started fightin’ and- and I might have told him to get lost.”

Jet’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“And you left him there.”

It’s not a question but Poison nods anyway. 

“Go.”

Poison looks up sharply the same time Kobra whips his head in Jet’s direction. Is he kicking them out? 

Yeah, Kobra’s pissed at his sibling but like- he doesn't want them _gone_. Shit he doesn’t think he’d be able to choose between his sibling and Jet-

“Find him,” Jet clarifies, his voice low and deadly.

Kobra relaxes slightly as Poison nods jerkily. They pat their pockets down until they produce the ‘AM’s keys before all but sprinting out the door.

Once it shuts behind them, Jet seems to deflate. He leans back against the sink and hangs his head. Carefully, Kobra reaches out the hand that’s not holding the baby and places it on his arm. 

‘Okay?’ he asks once Jet glances up.

“They had better find him.”

‘They will,’ he assures him, offering a small smile.

Jet’s expression melts and he wraps an arm around Kobra, pulling him close and leaning his head against his shoulder. 

He doesn’t want to think about what would happen if Poison isn’t able to find Ghoul.

______________________________________________

You know, if you asked Ghoul, he’d probably tell you he was great at surviving on his own. He’s done it since forever, basically. It isn’t that hard, once you get used to it. You just learn to pick what’s important for your survival and what’s not.

He took care of himself for years but, somehow, a few short months with a crew has turned him into a clueless idiot. It’s less than an hour after Poison leaves in a cloud of dust that Ghoul runs into trouble. 

He’s still sniffling, hating himself for being hurt by something he should be used to by now. Ghoul knew Poison was getting tired of him but he just _had_ to argue back when they said he didn’t help in that clap. But he _did_ help. He was the one steering the car so they could lean out the window to shoot. But they got a little too close to a laser beam and suddenly it was his fault?

Maybe he should have just stayed quiet. Maybe then he wouldn’t be dehydrated, lost, or getting shot at.

Had he mentioned that yet? That his bad day only proceeded to get worse and worse until an actual fucking ‘crow decided to stumble up on him. 

There’s a graze in his side that’s mostly stopped bleeding by now but that’s the least of his worries, seeing as the tree he’s using for cover is scorched with laser blasts aimed at him. His blaster has three- maybe four shots left before it goes dead.

He’s been in some shitty situations before but this one has to take the cake. Hell, maybe this is it. Maybe there’s no dramatic explosion marking his death like he thought there would be. But at least he’s gonna go out fighting Better Living. That counts for something. Right?

He’s not sure. And he doesn’t try to dwell on it cause there’s no point, is there?

Jet’s not here to save him and Poison would probably shoot him themself before they helped him. Though, he wouldn’t mind having Kobra here right now. He’s pretty handy in a fight.

A laser blast hits the side of the tree, inches form his face, and Ghoul blows out a sharp breath. He steps out from behind the tree, gun already aimed at the spot he knows the ‘crow to be. He shoots twice and, by pure luck, manages to get it in the knee. It stumbles, red blood soaking it’s pure white uniform. Ghoul feels lightheaded but he pushes through it and aims to deliver the final shot.

However, right as he pulls the trigger, tires screech on asphalt and a cloud of sand is kicked up as the vehicle comes to a stop. His blast was already shot but with all the sand in the air he misses his mark. Right on cue his blaster dies. Fuck.

“Ghoul!”

Shit. That’s Poison. Wait- didn’t they see the ‘crow?

The sand is clearing enough for Ghoul to make out Poison trying to maneuver their way to him. To Poison’s left is the ‘crow, now standing again and aiming it’s blaster right at them. They don’t see it. And, despite everything, Ghoul’s stomach drops. 

Because even though they hate him, even though they kicked him out, he doesn’t want them to get killed. 

So he lets his blaster hit the ground as he takes off in a sprint towards them. They pick up their pace and they’re shouting something that he can’t make out. It doesn’t matter. Ghoul tackles them to the ground just as the zapping sound of a laser beam makes its way through the air.

He hits the sand with enough force to knock the air out of him but he can hear Poison cursing up a storm beside him. When he turns his head in their direction, still gasping as he tries to force the air back into his lungs, they’re already taking a knee and shooting at the ‘crow. 

They're just in front of him, their back turned so he can’t see their face. The ‘crow is firing wildly and Ghoul goes to sit up, to help Poison finish off this stubborn bastard, but the second he moves his entire right side explodes in pain. He bites down the whimper that builds up in his throat and lifts his head enough to glance down. 

Blood soaks through his shirt already and he knows just from the glance that it’s bad. Like, _really_ bad. Fuck. 

He lets his head fall back into the sand and tries to steady his breathing, not knowing how many more breaths he has. With each second that passes by his head gets lighter and the sounds of Poison fighting grows distant. Looks like he really is dying today. 

He finds himself hoping that Jet and the others will tell the girl about him when she gets older. That he won’t just be forgotten. 

Ghoul doesn’t even realize his eyes are closed until there’s a shout of his name and hands scrambling to peel off his jacket. He blinks up at the sky, watching the blurry blue be replaced by red. It takes a moment for Poison to come into focus and a minute longer for Ghoul to realize they’re talking to him.

“Fuckin’ idiot.”

“ so’ry,” he whispers, feeling his breath hitch with the strain.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t die. That’s all you gotta do Ghoulie. Okay? Just stay awake.”

They press down on his side and Ghoul feels like that should be painful, but he doesn’t feel anything. He’s numb and he can barely hear Poison anymore. Can only just make out their voice, begging him to stake awake against the dull ringing in his ears. He fades in and out a couple of times, almost leaving completely before he’s suddenly awake again. 

It’s almost like when you’re falling asleep and you jerk awake because you feel like you’re falling. Except it keeps happening.

After his eyes snap open yet again, Ghoul focuses on Poison’s face. How their hair is falling down in thick, greasy clumps around their face. The look of complete concentration etched into their features, like it is whenever they’re focusing really hard on a ghost thing. He glances down, as much as he can without lifting his head, but all he’s met with is Poison’s arms covered in blood. His blood.

How is he alive?

“That’s it,” Poison assures him softly. “Jet’s on ‘is way, okay? Jus’ hold on.” And Ghoul tries. Really, he does. But his eyes have other plans. They fall shut without any warning, too heavy for him to try and open them again. He feels himself slip and this time there’s no falling feeling. He just drifts.

__________________________________________________

“Poison!”

They look up sharply at Jet, eyes wide and hands shaking as they press against Ghoul’s side. But they can’t speak, all of their energy is being focused into keeping Ghoul here. They don’t know how they’re doing it. Or that they could even do it at all. But they’re literally holding his spirit into his body, forcing him to stay alive as his body tries to shut down.

Jet seems to get the message and drops down to his knees beside them. Poison doesn’t lift their hands, they _can’t_ , so he simply places his over top of theirs. 

“ _Witch_.”

And yeah. They know it’s bad. They can see Ghoul’s fucking _rib bones_ through the goddamn hole that he ‘crow put in him. If they weren’t the only thing keeping him alive they’d be finding the ‘crow’s spirit and finding out if you really can die twice.

As it is though, Jet begins working immediately. They can feel the warmth of his magic, even though it’s not as intense as it would be if they were the one getting healed. But it’s slow going and the minutes tick by like days. Especially with the blistering sun overhead.

Poison is lagging, they know that they are. Holding Ghoul’s spirit in, keeping him alive for Jet to save, it’s difficult and they’re beginning to feel the toll it’s taking on them. But they don’t let up, not until there’s no push against their efforts. Only once his spirit stops fighting to be free do they exhale and let their grip on it fade.

They nearly fall backwards but, to their surprise, Kobra’s here too. He catches them and helps them stand. They’re shaking hard as he guides them back to the ‘AM but Poison twists around to try and see Ghoul. It throws what little balance they had off and Kobra curses under his breath as he keeps them from hitting the ground.

“He’s fine,” Kobra tells them in a rough voice. The first time he’s spoken in days. 

“But-”

Kobra just leads them to sit in the passenger seat of the car and shoves a granola bar in their hands.

‘Eat.’

They want to argue but the logical part of their brain, however small, insists that they just expended a ton of energy and they need to replace it quickly if they don’t want to pass out. And passing out isn’t an option with Ghoul hurt this badly. So they bite back their pride and take a chunk out of the granola bar. 

Kobra disappears for a moment but quickly returns with a water bottle. That too is thrust into their hands and they nearly drop it. 

‘Drink that.’

“But, Kobra-”

The look he gives them could make an Exterminator wet itself and Poison finds themself nodding as they take a drink just to show him they understand that he’s serious. They know they fucked up but seeing Kobra be so cold with them is really making it settle in. 

Guilt begins to build in their stomach, leaving them nauseous and ashamed. What is _wrong_ with them? 

Ghoul is like- like their _best friend_ or whatever. How could they abandon him like that? He very well might still die and it’s _their_ fault.

What the fuck were they _thinking_?

They sit there for a while, guilt bubbling up inside them and making it difficult to breathe, to think. It weighs them down and they’re unable to lift their head to see if Jet’s making any progress. They can’t stand the thought of seeing Ghoul so hurt. It’s their fault. All of it.

 _They_ should have been the one to get hit. He took that blast for them and he _shouldn’t_ have. Poison’s been horrible to him and they literally betrayed every bit of trust that the two of them managed to build. And for what? Because they get this weird feeling in their gut every time they see him. 

They don’t know what it is but just… something about Ghoul has changed. No. Changed isn’t the right word. More like it’s come into focus. Poison can see something in him now, they feel drawn to it. But they don’t know what it is or why they feel this way.

And so, because they’re an idiot, they’ve tried to push him away. They were aware of what they were doing but chose to ignore the hurt in Ghoul’s eyes every time they said something cruel. They didn’t mean a word of it. God, they don’t believe a thing that they said to him. 

But _he_ doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that Poison was just confused and- and admittedly a little scared of whatever this feeling is. He had no way of understanding that because they didn’t talk to him. All they did was shove him away and hurt him because they’re a coward. They’re a coward and an asshole and now one of their best friends is going to _die_ and it’s _their_ fault.

______________________________________

Jet and Kobra leave them alone. 

Poison doesn’t know why, or how it could possibly be a good idea, but they wake up the next morning to an empty diner. Well, Ghoul is unconscious on the makeshift bed in the center of the room but he’s out cold so it doesn’t really count. All their brother and Jet left was a note saying they had gone out for the day to get the supplies that Poison failed to get the day before. 

They even took the baby with them, dropped her off at Doc’s so she’d be safe while they were on the run. 

And it feels wrong, sitting here in this booth, stirring their PowerPup with a fork absently while Ghoul lies a few feet away. He’s pale and his breathing is shallow enough to be worrying. His entire torso is wrapped in bandages and there’s already a small stain of red bleeding through. 

Jet couldn’t heal him all the way. The damage was too much and, aside from killing himself in the process, there was no way to close the blaster wound completely. They had wanted to argue and insist that Jet could do a _little_ more. Just to make Ghoul not look so fucking dead.

But all it took was one look for them to see how drained Jet was. His hair was plastered down around his face from sweat and he was nearly as pale as Ghoul. His hands had shook as he stood and Poison is certain that the only reason he was able to walk to the car was sheer stubbornness. 

Jet passed out almost instantly when they got home, after checking on Ghoul one last time. Poison had tried to stay up, to help their brother get Ghoul comfortable and put the baby down. But their own exhaustion caught up with them and they were out like a light.

By the time they woke up this morning- or well, _evening_ , Jet and their brother were already gone and they were alone with Ghoul.

They sigh, stabbing their fork into the can of untouched PowerPup and leaving it there. They should be hungry but truthfully, they’re too nauseous from guilt to even think about eating right now. 

All of this is their fault. They fucked up. Big time. And the only way they’re going to be able to fix this is by admitting why they acted like they did in the first place.

Which is difficult, because they’re not even sure _why_ they got that weird feeling towards Ghoul. Even after sleeping, they can’t figure out what that feeling in their stomach is. But it’s still there. Every time they look at him, notice the way his complexion is a little more healthy, how his hair fans around the pillow in long dark strands. He’s beautiful. 

They wish he was awake. They miss him, funnily enough. Poison misses the little glimmer of mischief in his eyes right before he says a joke. The way his hands will fidget and move almost of their own accord, taking things apart and putting them back together while he’s talking to them. How big his smile is when he’s really, truly happy. The way it takes up almost his entire face and makes his eyes light up, the green sparkling like someone’s shining a light in them.

God and the way their name sounds when he says it, how he jumps over syllables and draws it out into one long word. His voice is quieter than you’d think, rough but still somehow soft when he wants it to be. 

They’d give almost anything to go back in time and stop themself from fucking this up before they got the chance to figure out what this is. It’s almost like a- a wave of something. It washes over them and their chest feels all warm and soft. But it’s not a bad feeling. Not really. They kinda like it.

Poison gives a long glance to Ghoul, watching the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes. Now would be a good time to change his bandages actually, seeing as him getting an infection is the absolute last thing they need right now. With a grunt, they stand and walk over to sit down beside him.

The thin mattress Ghoul’s laying on makes it easy for them to simply sit cross legged while they work. They may not be good at actual first aid, but changing bandages they can manage. 

With slow, careful hands, they peel off the old bandages, making sure to be extra careful as they lift his top half up to unwrap the old cloth. They do their best not to stare at the deep wound in his side but it’s hard not to. 

They can’t see his bone anymore, so that’s a good thing. But it’s still very deep and they whisper apologies as they dab some antiseptic around the pink outside. Ghoul doesn’t move, too far under to even feel the pain, but Poison feels guilty anyway. 

Once they’re certain they’ve done all they can to ward off infection, they begin wrapping the clean bandages around him. It’s hard to do with one hand, seeing as their left arm has to be used to hold him up since he’s dead weight right now, but they make due. As they tuck the end of the bandage under one of the layers to keep it in place, Poison tries to ignore how badly they wish this was just a dream. A nightmare where they could wake up to a world where they hadn’t betrayed Ghoul’s trust. Where they hadn’t hurt him and nearly gotten him killed.

But such a world doesn’t exist because Poison is an asshole and they’re going to have to face the consequences of their actions sooner or later. They just wish it wasn’t Ghoul’s life that got caught up in the mess.

Gently, Poison shifts so that Ghoul’s head rests on their shoulder and their arms keep his torso relatively straight. They lower him back down as slowly as they can, making sure not to hit where his wound is. 

Poison takes a minute to go over the list in their head, making sure they’ve done everything properly before they cover him back up. Only once they’re certain that they’ve done all they can do they pull the old blanket back over his lower half. 

It’s the warmest that they have and the most comfortable. It was Poison’s, back in the City. Back when they went by a different name and lived an entirely different life. This blanket, as faded and well worn as it is, is a welcome comfort on the nights that their head makes them question everything. It saved their and Kobra’s lives when they first got out, kept them warm and grounded through the harsh desert nights.

Poison can only pray that it brings Ghoul that same level of comfort and safety. 

____________________________________

Ghoul’s nearly died before.

You don’t live on your own for as long as he has without a few close calls. Hell, he’s almost certain he’s even met the Witch before. Though, he doesn’t exactly remember her. But he has the _feeling_ that he has, you know?

Either way, he’s learning now what it feels like to stir his way back to consciousness after a really close call. It’s how he felt when he woke up after he got those infections in his lungs. How he felt those nights all those years ago after the storm that nearly killed him and left him burning with fever for days.

It’s a groggy sort of feeling, as if a fog is lifting slowly from his mind. Or like a flame is steadily growing stronger, illuminating more of a dark room as it grows. 

Things tend to come back in pieces, memories and feelings. He remembers his fight with Poison, how badly their words hurt. The way his chest felt like it was being crushed.

And he can feel a breeze, or maybe a draft? An easy, continuous stream of air flowing around him. It may be his imagination. He’s learned that not everything he feels is real as he’s drifting in this odd state of awake but not quite conscious. 

Sound comes later, along with the sensation of pain. He can hear a dull hum, or maybe it’s a roar? Definitely a machine of some kind. He thinks it might be a fan, Jet’s fan. 

His side hurts, a sharp stinging pain that makes his arm twitch on it’s own. 

Another sound makes its way to his groggy senses. A voice, low and murmuring. 

Pain spikes again, followed by the voice whispering something too quiet for him to hear.

Curious now, despite how he knows opening his eyes will make the pain worse. It’s muted enough to where if he let himself, he could drift back under and it would fade again. But, call him stubborn, he wants to know who this person is.

It takes a lot of concentration but at last, Ghoul is blinking his blurry surroundings into focus. The first thing he notices is the ceiling, the exposed wooden beams covered in splotches of multi-colored paint. He lets his eyes fall, scanning the wall until he can see a familiar booth. The red seats. Kobra’s favorite Zine resting on the table.

The pain in his side comes again and Ghoul flinches, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth. A whispered apology comes from his right and he uses all of his strength to turn his head towards the sound.

He’s a little shocked, honestly, to find Poison by his side. They’re focused, eyes set on whatever they’re doing with their hands. He watches them pour something from a bottle onto a red stained rag and then press it against his side.

The pain comes sharper this time and Ghoul must make some sort of sound to alert Poison that he’s awake because when he glances back they’re staring at him. Their eyes are wide, full of an emotion he’s never seen them have. It almost looks like fear. 

“Ghoul?” they ask, eyebrows scrunching together as if they’re trying very hard not to cry.

He manages a hum, to let them know he heard them, and the relief that passes over their features is enough to make some of his hurt for what they did dissipate.

“Fuck, uh-” They run a hand through their hair, making the greasy strands stick up a little. “Jet didn’t think you’d be up ‘fore he got back. Shit. um-”

They look him up and down, wringing their hands, more nervous and unsure than he’s ever seen them. But, even when he can tell that they’ve been trying to make up for what they said and did, Ghoul can’t help but be cautious. They had been nice to him for a while and then they just, _turned_ into a complete asshole. He has no reason to think that they won’t do it again. No matter how genuine Poison looks right now, he can’t trust them.

Hell, they probably only brought him back to the diner to patch him up as a sort of repayment for him saving their ass. The second he’s up and walking he’s going to be asked to leave. Even if Jet and Kobra protest, it’s not like they’re going to choose him over Poison. And he tries to remind himself of that as Poison goes back to meticulously cleaning his injury. 

Ghoul lacks the strength to actually sit up and see how bad he was hurt, but judging from how sharp the pain is and how long it's taking them to clean it, it’s probably pretty bad. Just his luck.

He closes his eyes after a while and though he’s impossibly tired, he doesn’t drift off. Poison begins talking again a little later, murmuring quiet things under their breath as they tape down a new bandage.

“Ghoul,” they whisper after a few countless moments, only just loud enough for him to hear.

He pries his eyes open and finds them sliding one of their hands under his shoulder. They lean over him, until their face is right beside his.

“Gonna sit you up, okay? That ‘a way I can get you all wrapped up.”

He doesn’t answer but he allows them to pull him up until his head rests against their chest. They work quickly now, wrapping the bandages around him with steadier hands than he’s ever seen them have. He’s too weak to be of any help and Poison has to lift his arm to pass the bandage under it every time they add another layer, but, for the first time in his life, it’s sorta nice to have someone just take care of him.

Poisson's impossibly gentle and they never stop the quiet whispers of comfort, praising him for doing so well. And it’s strange to see them like this, so completely stripped of that cocky attitude that they wear so often. He’s only ever seen Poison this caring when they’re with their brother, in particular on one of his bad days. 

It’s the same tone of voice that they use to coax Kobra into drinking some water and at least changing his shirt when he hasn’t gotten out of bed for days. A careful sort of compassion that Ghoul assumed wasn’t meant for him.

And yet, here he is. 

His head is too slow and foggy for him to make sense of it, but it’s kinda nice. He can admit that much at the least.

After Poison finishes wrapping him back up, Ghoul expects them to lay him down and tell him to sleep. That’s the procedure isn’t it? Make him sleep it off so he’s outta their hair sooner?

Instead, to his surprise, they wrap one arm around his waist as the other raises to cradle the back of his head. And they just… _hold_ him. 

He’s unable to hold them back but he does lift his arms enough to sit loosely at their waist, letting them rest on their legs because he doesn’t have the energy to keep them up.

Poison hums and lowers their head down close to his.

“ ‘m so sorry Ghoul,” they whisper in a broken voice, one that sounds nothing like them.

One of their hands begins playing with his hair, running their fingers through and getting rid of any knots they find along the way. 

And Ghoul doesn't have an answer to that. He can hardly get his thoughts straight if he’s honest.

He’s never felt so… so _cared_ for. Poison is warm and their hold on him, while careful, is strong and safe. He never wants to leave. He wants to stay like this forever. They smell like campfires and spray paint, like home. 

But he can’t just forget all the awful things they said to him. He just wants to know what changed. What he did to make them turn on him so quickly.

He doesn't wanna think about how much harder it's gonna be to leave now that he knows this feeling, the way they can make him forget about the full throb in his side and the tired ache behind his eyes. Forgetting about this, about _them_ ,is going to be nearly impossible and his heart hurts just to think about leaving this.

“Wha’ ‘d I do wrong?” he mutters against the fabric of their shirt despite himself.

He can feel the hitching breath they take, how they hold it in for a moment before answering. 

“Nothing. Ghoul you didn’t do _anythin’_. I-” they shake their head hard. “I don’t know what the fuck came over me but I should have _never_ said those things to you.”

“Why not?”

At this, Poison’s hold gets tighter but not quite painful. He may be upset and hurt by what they did, but his exhausted body is more focused on how comfortable they are and he finds himself melting against them even more. He could fall asleep like this. 

“ ‘cos I’m an idiot and I- I dunno why but I get this like- this feelin’ in my chest every time I see you. And I dunno what it is or why I get it but it scared me at first. An’ I fucked up ‘n took it out on you. But you didn’t do _anythin’_ wrong, Ghoul. I didn’t mean a _word_ ‘f what I said.” They press their forehead against the top of his head and their breath hitches again. “ ‘m so fuckin’ _sorry_ Ghoul.”

Life on his own taught him that if someone hurts you once, they’re going to do it again. It’s a fact of life. And yet at their admission, he’s beginning to question that belief. Because he has never heard someone apologize like this after hurting him. It was always things like how they wouldn’t have stolen from him if he hadn't been greedy and taken more than what he needed to survive. Or that they only left him alone for two weeks because he was talking their ears off and they needed a break from him. 

Those sort of apologies mean nothing. Because they’re not really apologies. He learned quickly that people that make it his fault are just going to hurt him again.

So hearing Poison apologize. _Party Poison_ , the most arrogant hot headed bastard in the whole desert, _admit_ that they were wrong and that what they did hurt him. _That_ is what makes Ghoul realize they’re sincere. That they actually do care. It doesn’t erase what they did, it’s not that easy, but he does forgive them. If only hesitantly so.

“ ‘s forgiven,” he tells them with as much reassurance as he can muster.

They make a strange sound, something between a laugh and a sob.

“ ‘m gonna make it better, Ghoulie,” Poison says into his hair, their grip never faltering. “I’m going to be better.”

And he believes them.

__________________________________________

With a hand on the wall to steady himself, Ghoul stumbles his way to his bedroom door. He nearly trips over all of the junk scattered around on the floor but, somehow successfully makes his way across the room without fail. 

After the others were certain that he was healing okay, they let him sleep in his room again rather than the middle of the dining area. He's honestly grateful for the chance to have his own space again. Seeing everyone walking around and doing things while all he could do was lay around was getting miserable. And besides, it’s quieter in his room anyway. Not that he has any trouble sleeping. 

Actually, most of his time over the past few days has been spent either sleeping or laying around doing nothing. But, as his strength returns gradually, so has his fidgety energy.

He hates sitting around, hates not working on something or at least _planning_ working on something. His hands feel strange without the weight of a tool or odd part and it’s even weirder to see them free from the coating of grease and dirt that he normally has built up. And he’s not stupid enough to try and go outside and work on something in the shed. He’s impulsive but he knows he wouldn’t be able to make it that far on his own just yet.

Well, actually he’s not supposed to be walking by himself at all. But what Jet doesn’t know won’t hurt him and Ghoul heard him and Kobra leave a little while ago. So it’s only Poison and the baby that he has to worry about. Easy peasy, right?

It would be if he wasn't getting dizzy just from the small amount of walking he's already done. He curses his stupid luck as his side aches with every move he makes.

Once he makes it to the door, Ghoul leans his uninjured side against the wall so he can open the door while also keeping his balance. It’s easy enough and he takes his first, unassisted, step out into the main part of the diner since he got hurt.

Twilight is settling in and the diner is cast in soft grey shadows, just light enough for him to see where he’s going without tripping over the various junk lying around here too. They really should clean up this place before someone breaks a bone or something ‘cause they’ve tripped over a pile of empty cans or whatever.

As he makes it through the hallway and turns towards the kitchen, Ghoul finds that the lights are on and he can hear the sound of Poison talking nonsense to the baby. The sound of her banging her spoon against the highchair Jet made her echoes through the silent diner.

Poison shushes her as Ghoul slowly begins making his way along the wall towards the kitchen. He’s bored and watching them try and wrestle the baby into eating more than she throws on the floor is always entertaining. It should do well enough to cure his boredom without wiping him out completely. He just has to make it there first. 

And he almost does. But he overestimates how much his severely injured body can take so soon and ends up stumbling against the wall as his legs give out. Something falls to the ground and shatters from him hitting it but he’s more focused on the return of the sharp pain in his side than he is with whatever lies broken on the floor.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Poison go quiet in the other room. He glances up through his hair in time to watch them peak through the doorway, scanning the room with their hand already on their blaster. But they gasp as their eyes land on him and they’re across the room and by his side in three long strides.

Their arms wrap around him until he’s leaning almost all of his weight against them instead of the wall. He’s in too much pain and too out of breath to thank them but he does appreciate the fact that they didn't just let him hit the floor.

“Ghoul,” they say in exasperation, shifting until their arm is around his waist and his left arm is over their shoulder. “Let’s get you back ‘t bed.”

He doesn’t argue as they all but carry him back. Time passes strangely for a while after that. He drifts in and out as they lay him down. Then he comes back again as they’re pulling the blanket over him, just in time to hear them take a sharp breath.

“ _Shit_.”

“ ‘s wrong?” he slurs, attempting to get his arms underneath him to sit up and see what they’re staring at. 

To his surprise, Poison slides their arm underneath him like before and guides him up. He bows forward but is able to keep himself mostly upright. 

“You’re bleedin’ again. Gonna ‘av ‘t clean you up.”

He must drift off because the next thing he knows he’s being lowered down again. Poison notices he’s awake though and they make him drink something that tastes like actual dog crap. 

“I know it’s gross,” they amend with a tiny smile as they set the glass jar aside. “But Jet said it’ll help you get better faster. It’s got lots ‘a vitamins ‘n shit ‘parently.”

Ghoul snorts, half in disbelief and half because that sounds like something Jet would make. Poison laughs too, a light easy laugh that makes something in him light up. He remembers the other day, how they told him they got this weird feeling when they were around him. 

At first he thought they were crazy, or maybe just more fucked up from the City’s drugs than he thought. But then he noticed that he feels it too. Has felt it for a while, actually.

It’s like this weird fluttery feeling in his stomach and then his chest will go all warm and he’ll find himself staring at Poison as if they’re the most beautiful sunset in the world. 

It’s in moments like this one, where Poison isn’t putting on a face or trying to act a certain way, that that feeling really blooms. 

“You’re lucky Jet didn’t try and kick your ass for walking earlier,” Poison tells him, eyes crinkling as they smile down at him.

“He came back already?”

“Mhm. Right as I was comin’ through with th’ medkit.” They wave their hand. “You were pretty outta it.”

He must have been. Jet will most definitely give him hell for it later. But it’s okay. 

“Thank you,” Ghoul says under his breath.

Poison stops fidgeting for once and tilts their head to the side.

“For what?”

“Takin’ care ‘f me.”

The smile they give him is small, almost shy.

“You don’t gotta thank me for that, Ghoulie.”

And he knows that. Taking care of your crew is like, rule number one. If you don’t care about each other you’re not gonna last more than one clap. That’s just how it works.

But this also just… feels like more than that. More than just Poison honoring their word to stop bottling up their feelings and taking it out on him. It feels like they care.

“I know,” he says with a smirk.

They roll their eyes at him but, to his surprise, lift the blanket and slide onto the mattress beside him. There’s a small gap between them but he can still feel their body heat, can hear the way they take an uncertain breath before intertwining their fingers with his. He wonders if their heart is beating as fast as his is. 

Because that odd warm, fluttery feeling is back. Their touch sends it rolling through him in waves and he doesn’t hesitate to scoot over until their sides are touching. 

For a second, they tense up and he almost starts apologizing and moving away, but then they relax and lean into him too.

“ ‘s this okay?” he asks, slowly beginning to realize what that feeling is now.

But that doesn’t mean they’ve figured it out. He has to be careful, Poison may act tough but they’re far more fragile than they let on. It’s clear to see if you know them well enough. It takes a lot for them to trust someone, to let them be as close as Ghoul is right now.

Poison tilts their head up without lifting it from the pillow they’re sharing. This close he can see the specks of brown and gold in their eyes, the freckles along their cheeks. He can see the beginnings of their brown roots in their hair, how there’s a smear of neon green on the side of their jaw. There’s baby food in their hair, a lopsided smile on their face, and a scared sort of vulnerability in their eyes.

“ Should be askin’ you that.”

Ghoul doesn’t have a response to that but that’s okay because Poison leans up until their faces are inches apart. His eyes dart to their lips and then quickly back up to their eyes, trying to figure out if he should just lean in and close the distance or wait for them to do it. In the end, Poison moves first. They glance up to him one final time, making sure he’s okay, before they press their lips against his.

It’s soft and slow, the two of them barely even moving really, but Ghoul swears that it’s the best kiss he’s ever had. Not that he’s had many. But none of them felt like this. None of the people he’s kissed before held him like this. Their touch didn’t give him goosebumps. Their lips didn’t slot against his own as if they were made for it.

He’s out of breath and dizzy by the time Poison finally pulls back. Ghoul can’t find it in himself to open his eyes but he smiles when they plant a gentle kiss on the bridge of his nose. His cheek is next, then his forehead, and one final kiss against his lips before Poison sighs happily.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” they admit, running their fingerings through his hair as they let him tuck his head into their chest.

He’s nearly asleep but he manages to shake his head enough to stop them from feeling guilty over this.. Because he missed it too. It was right under both of their noses. Funny how it took all of this for them to put the pieces together.

“ ‘s okay. I’m new at this too.”

“Ghoul I- I think I um- I think I like you…”

They sound uncertain but he knows it’s not for the reason that it might appear to be. Because they both clearly more than “like” each other. But it’s still too soon. They’re both not ready for those kinds of promises. Even if they would be true.

So Ghoul just smiles to himself and hums.

“I like you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure this was pretty predictable but still, I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts and things on it!  
> Hopefully I'll be updating this again soon! I have one that follows pretty close after the events of our little Sing story line. Full of fluff and Jet Star, you know, the good stuff haha


	21. I think you're my best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> * mentions of past injuries/near death experiences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to wait a whole 2 days before I posted this one hahaha  
> I wrote this like last week? and idk I felt like we needed some more of Jet Star after the sing thing. So this takes place shortly after that, once they're all mostly healed up and stuff.   
> Huge thanks to @i-like-to-wander-around-here for her help editing this one!!  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Jet is enjoying a rare quiet moment in the diner.

He’s lounging by what once was the bar, his bare feet kicked up on a stool and a comic in hand that he’s excitedly leafing through. It was a miracle that he found the thing, really. It was just sitting there in a crate at Tommy’s. 

The comic’s in great condition too, all things considered. There’s no pages torn out or scribbles over the faces. It’s a little worn, sure. The color is a bit dull and the paper is clearly old. But someone took care of it, cared enough to keep the pages from being bent. 

He’s not even really sure what it’s about, if he’s honest. It says #14 on the front page, right next to the giant robot’s head. So he’s really just starting in the middle of whatever story was supposed to be told. 

Not that Jet minds. A story is a story and he’s having fun coming up with his own ways to connect the dots when he encounters something that doesn’t make sense. 

Very quietly, he can hear Poison talking in the other room. They’d mentioned a new spirit hanging around here the other day and have been trying everything they could think of to make conversation with them. From the sound of it, Poison’s been successful. 

Aside from the occasional loud laugh that seems to echo around the diner, Poison’s being quiet enough for their presence to not bother Jet while he reads. Moments like this are rare, especially nowadays.

It’s only been a few months since they rescued the Girl. It’s taken them every bit of that time to recover from the experience. Things have been difficult, they all still have ways to go yet, but they’re so far from how things were. 

Far enough that Ghoul and Cherri were confident enough to take the Girl out today on their run. Nothing big of course, just Ghoul selling his explosives at the Market. Hopefully, just a boring day.

Jet sighs a little to himself. As much as he wants to focus on the comic in his hands, be roped in by the story about a dude who’s coworker is a giant robot, he just can’t.

He almost wants to go find Kobra, see what he’s getting up to. Maybe help with whatever project he’s working on.

But Kobra had asked to be alone today, something about a new device he’s working on. Jet doesn’t want to bother him. 

Poison’s laugh cuts through the air, a little pitchy and rough. They’ve only recently been able to talk normally again. Their voice is still hoarse and more often than not they have to sign if they want to have a conversation longer than a few minutes. But hey, it’s progress. 

Jet debates getting up and seeing what Poison is doing. He knows they’re talking to the ghost, but maybe they wouldn’t mind him just hanging out?

He’s bored, truthfully. And maybe a little lonely.

This is as empty as the diner has been in ages, especially since Cherri has basically moved in with them. 

Jet almost talks himself out of it, but, ultimately, boredom wins out and he’s slipping off the stool he was perched on. His back aches a bit from the odd angle being forced on still-healing tendons or whatever. But it’s manageable. He doesn’t even slouch as he pads across the floor towards Poison’s room.

He makes it through the piles of junk scattered over the floor and knocks quickly before he can overthink it. 

Poison’s muffled voice stops and Jet steps back when he hears them walking to the door. They open the door a crack, a confused expression settling over their face.

“Yeah?” they ask, pushing some of their hair back out of their face. 

“Was wonderin’ if I could join in?”

Jet winces at his own words. Way to sound needy.

But Poison just smiles, like they get it, and swing the door wide. Jet nods his thanks and steps inside.

The room that Poison and Ghoul share is tiny, mainly occupied by the mattress that sits in the center. There’s only a small area to walk around on either side and you have to walk on the bed to get across. Piles of clothes and other random belongings are strewn everywhere. 

Jet treads carefully, making sure not to step on anything. Ghoul likes to keep his trinkets and things wrapped in pieces of fabric or dirty clothes. Jet doesn’t get it, but he also doesn’t want to accidentally step on something important.

He makes it to the mattress and sits slowly before lifting his head to look at Poison. They're still standing in the doorway, holding onto the door handle. But he can tell from the glassy look in their eyes that they’re not here mentally.

He’s concerned for a moment- they’ve all been trying to deal with what happened in their own ways- but then he remembers that they were talking to the spirit. Poison’s not freaking out, they’re just listening to whatever the ghost is saying.

It’s times like these where Jet can’t help but be a little creeped out by Poison’s power- not that he would _ever_ say that outloud. Maybe it’s because he believes so strongly in the Witch. People have told him that he puts too much faith in Her, but that’s just how he was raised. It’s what makes him _him_. So maybe that’s why it feels so unsettling to know that there are people, souls, who the Witch hasn’t taken in. 

She protects everyone, even those who don’t believe in Her. But, without a mask or a way for her to tether to your soul, She can’t do anything. It’s sad, something he thinks about often, even before they found out Poison’s power. But now, seeing them talking to someone who the Witch couldn’t help, it makes Jet uncomfortable. 

Maybe it’d be easier if he could _see_ whoever Poison is talking to. Hell, maybe it’d make it worse. But either way, there’s a part of him that wishes he were able to see these spirits too. 

“What’re they saying?” Jet asks when he can’t take the silence any longer.

Poison blinks slowly and slumps a little as they come back to themself. But their smile is wide as they come over and plop down beside Jet.

They twist their upper body to face him, eyes shining and hands already moving before they even start talking.

“I finally got through to ‘em!”

Jet can’t help but laugh a little. “I heard. Was there a reason you couldn’t get a hold a’ them sooner?”

“Yeah, they’ve been here like, _super_ long. Like, b’fore we moved in!”

“Wait,” Jet interjects. “But you had no trouble with Maude and she’s been here like, _ages_.” “Yeah but she _wanted_ ‘t find me. Like- she was lookin’ for a way to talk to someone. Just happened ‘t be me an’ then I fucked up ‘n now she's here permanently. But Drew’s been here like, almost just as long. ‘Cept, he didn’t _know_ he could talk t’ me.”

“Drew?” Jet asks slowly, unsure if he heard correctly.

What is with Poison and finding ghosts with the weirdest fucking names? Like was no one who is now a ghost named like- _Tod_ or something?

“Yeah, ‘s short for Andrew,” Poison explains, like it’s obvious.

“Right. But you guys figured it out? You can talk to ‘im and he knows it?”

Poison frowns a bit and makes a so-so gesture. 

“It’s finicky. Like th’ connection ‘s bad or something. It’s hard ‘t get th’ signal for ‘im at first, if that makes sense? But once I get started it’s pretty easy ‘t stay talkin’ to ‘im.” Jet nods like he isn’t more than a little lost. Again, what he would _give_ to have Poison’s power for like- a _day_.

“Is Drew still here then?” Jet asks, feeling a little bad for interrupting Poison.

They squint and their expression turns glassy again for a brief moment before they’re snapping back to themself and nodding. 

“Yep. But we’re both tired so I think tha’s all for today.”

With that, Poison falls back onto the mattress dramatically and covers their face with their arms. Jet laughs but lays down as well. He’s not tired, but it’s nice to do nothing in the company of one of his best friends. 

“What ‘bout you, Star?” Poison asks after a moment, rolling over onto their side to look at him.

He shrugs. “Na, not tired.”

“No,” Poison giggles. “I meant like- what were you up to? I wasn’t too loud or anythin’ was I?”

“Na, I wasn’t doin’ much. Tryin’ to read.”

Poison is quick to ask what he was reading and it’s easy to let himself get lost in explaining the comic to them. He ends up telling them all about the world and how the main character is always just shy of figuring out why his job hired the giant robot. It’s a ridiculous comic, when spoken aloud like this, but it’s entertaining enough that Poison seems just as into it. They ask a lot of questions and let Jet go on for way too long about all his different theories. By the time the conversation has lulled and Poison is napping with his shoulder as a pillow, the front door opens.

Jet tenses, drawn from his half-asleep thoughts by the fear of them not hearing a patrol or something sneak up on them.

But less than a second later he hears Ghoul’s loud cackle and the Girl’s shoes against the floor. He relaxes back against the bed and lifts his head enough to look at Poison.

They must be actually asleep because they haven't even moved. Smiling, Jet slides out from under them and drapes a nearby blanket over them. He tiptoes out and shuts the door quietly behind him.

The Girl comes out of nowhere, running up and latching onto his legs hard enough to nearly make him fall. But he catches his balance with practiced ease and ruffles a hand through her hair.

“Jet! Guess what I saw today!” She asks, in that super serious tone kids have.

“What’d you see, honey?”

“A dog!”

His eyebrows raise. He hadn’t expected that one. 

“A dog?”

“Yeah!” The Girl says excitedly. “Someone had it with them in their car and- and I got to pet it!”

“That’s awesome!” Jet says, genuinely happy. He’d been worried that she’d be bored sitting around all day.

“Yeah but Ghoul wouldn’t let me bring it home.”

Before Jet can answer, Ghoul peaks his head out of the doorway to the kitchen. He has his hair up in the braids Jet did for him earlier and there’s a spoon hanging from one side of his mouth.

“Because he had an owner already. If ‘e was a stray then I’d have let you.”

The Girl looks back up at Jet, putting on her best pout. 

“Ghoul’s got a point, Girly. His owner would’a been sad if you’d taken him.” She looks down and for a second, Jet fears that she’s gonna throw a tantrum. She doesn’t throw fits often, but she’s a kid so the inevitable meltdown is bound to happen every so often.

Jet’s just thankful that he’s not holding a radio right now because the last time she threw a tantrum the radio damn near exploded in his hand. 

But, to his surprise, she looks back up to him with a look of curiosity. 

“Wha’s a stray?”

Ghoul pokes his head out again, this time waving the spoon as he talks. 

“Someone who ain’t got a home. No one ‘t take care of ‘em, you know?”

She frowns. “So like you did?”

Jet freezes, quickly looking over to Ghoul. They never keep things from the Girl so when she was in that stage where she’d ask a trillion and one questions, they told her the truth. She had ended up goading them into telling the story of how they all met one day. They’d taken turns explaining things as best they could to the then wide eyed three-year old. 

She’s retained that curiosity but hasn’t quite grasped the appropriate times to ask questions like this.

“Yeah,” Ghoul says quietly, a tiny smile remaining on his face. “An’ then I found people who took me in.”

________________________________

Jet, of course, corners Ghoul after the Girl lays down to go to sleep. 

It’s easy enough to sneak up on him while he’s busy rolling and unrolling a thing of measuring tape. 

“Hey, Ghoul can I talk to you for a sec?”

Ghoul glances up but nods slowly. Jet sits down beside him against the outside wall of the diner.

It’s dark out, cool enough for them both to have their jackets zipped up but not hot enough so that it’s uncomfortable.

“What’d you wanna talk about?” Ghoul asks when Jet doesn’t say anything for a long moment. 

Truthfully, he’d been listening to him breathing to make sure he wasn’t going to catch something from sitting out in the cold. Jet’s always been a worry-er. It’s just who he is. Recent events have just made that worry something a bit more tangible. 

He’d rather not have Ghoul sick just after he's gone through all this trouble to get his breathing healthy again.

“Earlier,” Jet begins slowly. “You said you were a…”

“A stray?” Ghoul supplies with a sideways look. “ ‘s tha’ what’s got you all worried?”

“Kinda. I just- it took awhile for you to get used to livin’ with us and then today you said that Girly couldn’t take th’ dog home because he had an owner. But like-”

“Jet,” Ghoul interrupts, knocking his shoulder against Jet’s. “What’re you saying’?”

It’s not said cruelly. There’s no accusation in Ghoul’s tone, just confusion. 

“I… Did you wanna live with us? Like- when I took you home? Was that what you wanted or did I take you away from-”

“From livin’ quite literally in the sand?” Ghoul asks, a smirk now pulling on his lips.

When Jet doesn’t answer, the smirk is replaced with a look of genuine concern. 

“Hey- Jet,” He scoots closer until they’re touching. “Maybe I didn’t realize it at th’ time or whatever. ‘Cos like, I didn’t understand _why_ you brought me home. But I did want it. I sat in th’ back of th’ car and I was like- too afraid to be excited. Like- in a good way though.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes_ , really. I love you guys. You’re my family. C’mon, I tell you I love you at least twenty times a day.”

Jet cracks a small smile. “More like fifty.”

“Exactly my point!” Ghoul pushes against Jet a little harder. “So why all ‘a sudden are ya talkin’ like I might not be happy here?”

Jet's smile falls and he can only shrug. 

“ ‘cmon,” Ghoul says with a huff of fond exasperation. “You made me get all, deep an’ shit after we got th’ kiddo back. If I had ‘t talk about my feelin’s then so do you.”

_Witch_ , Jet loves this kid. 

“Dunno,” He says, staring down at his boots. “Just was thinkin’. You know, Doc thinks th’ Witch was all th’ reason the rescue turned out as it did.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. But I- I don’t know. I feel like- I feel like it was us. That we did it and- fuck I dunno maybe She did help. But it was still _us_ , you know?”

Jet looks over to Ghoul, hopefully. 

“Nope, not a clue.”

The look of hurt must show on his face because Ghoul practically climbs in his lap.

“I’m kiddin’, ‘m sorry,” He says sincerely, expression intense. “I get what you mean but I don’ get why tha’ has to do with why you’re upset.”

Jet sighs and tries to find the right words. Absently, he scoots Ghoul down so he’s sitting in front of him and starts picking at what’s left of the braids in his hair. Having something to do with his hands helps his words flow a little better. 

“It just got me thinking, I guess. Because so many things had to go exactly the way they did. Like, if I hadn’t have brought you home then you would have never brought the Girl home.” “ _Whoa_ ,” Ghoul mumbles, though he holds still while Jet gets started on some new braids.

“An’ like- if you hadn’t found the Girl in time, then we’d never have gotten ‘t raise her. We’d never have gone in th’ City ‘t get her back…”

“But,” Ghoul interjects gently. “We _did_. We got t’ change her nasty ass diapers and I got ‘t sing along ‘t th’ radio with ‘er on th’ way home t’day. And like- I dunno if it matters if it was th’ Witch or not who made all tha’ happen. Cos it happened either way and it was b’cos th’ things we decided, yeah? All of those things were _us_ , Jet.”

“Even th’ bad things?”

“Maybe,” Ghoul admits, just barely shrugging. “But that’s how it is. Can’t have th’ good without th’ bad. I’m sure Cherri’s got a million poems ‘n things saying’ th’ same thing.”

Jet hums as he twists the strands of Ghoul’s hair, pulling it up into one braid in the back that he curls into a bun and secures with a hair tie. Ghoul jumps up the second he’s done, and makes to go inside to check out the new design, but stops short before turning back around to face Jet.

“You do know we love you, Star, right?”

And maybe Jet’s just got a lot on his mind tonight, but it takes him a moment before he nods. He does know that the others love him just as much as he loves them. But, sometimes it is nice to hear it not being said casually. Ghoul’s not big on dramatic love confessions. He’s not like Poison, he won’t go on long rambles about whatever is on his mind.

His love is different than that. It’s quieter, if only in the sense that it is shone in the way he trusts Jet to do his hair like this. Trusts him enough to go into danger together. Trusted him enough to stay with them after Jet brought him home.

Ghoul might not show it, but he loves very easily. It’s just who he is. 

Jet isn’t sure how he forgot that.

“I love you too,” Jet whispers under his breath.

“Good. Now c’mon, ‘s cold an’ Cherri said he wanted us up early for some weird poetry thing.”


	22. Too Close is Close Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *typical firefight but no injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just mostly an excuse to write ghoul as an animal bc I feel like i haven't done that enough. he deserves just as much "screen time" with his power as the others have gotten.   
> Also, fair warning, this is largely unedited. I've gone over it a couple of times but I didn't send it to my beta so any and all errors are mine!   
> Also also, thinking of doing an xmas themed thing soon. I was gonna do one for halloween but I was in the middle of my break and just, couldn't bring myself to write yet. So, we will see. No promises  
> I hope you all enjoy!

Ghoul hates firefights. Has he ever mentioned that?

The others in his crew are fanned out around the car, shooting at the patrol of Dracs that snuck up on them. Behind the car sits Doc’s station, silent and locked. 

He knows that if Better Living gets its hands on the tech and information inside that station, it’s all over. And, usually, one measly patrol is nothing for them. They fought inside the City itself and didn’t die- mostly. _Still_ , you get his point. One patrol is easy, no biggie.

The problem lies in the fact that they weren’t expecting a clap today. Jet’s still re-learning to shoot after his eye got all fucked and Ghoul is… well he’s mostly fine. His mouth still hurts, or what’s left of it.

It doesn’t even really affect his ability to fight. He’s fine now. 

The problem is that it’s just annoying enough, just offsetting enough to make him wary. It’s making him cautious, more than he ever really is. He usually is one to leap first and ask questions later. He was already supposed to be helping by now. 

That was the plan.

The others distract the Dracs and he sneaks up with some fancy bombs and blows them sky high. Except he’s hesitating. He’s _not_ hiding. He’s just… using the wheel of the ‘AM as cover, that’s all.

“Ghoul?” Poison whisper/yells, not daring to take their eyes away from the fight.

He winces and shakes himself. This is stupid. It’s just a clap. He’s fine. They've been through way worse. He pushes down all the thoughts swirling around in his head and _focuses_. 

Ghoul taps his foot against the ground in three quick beats, the signal he was supposed to give ages ago, and quickly bolts out from behind the car. He races through the sand with ease, slipping through the space between his crew and the Dracs. No one spots him, all the City’s stupid goons are too focused on trying to aim. Dracs are always terrible shots. He’s thankful there aren't any ‘crows this go’round. 

He hides himself behind one of the Drac cars and, after making certain no eyes are on him, shifts back into his regular form. No one even glances back, _sweet_. 

From his pockets, he pulls four little bundles of wires and parts. They aren’t armed yet, even he isn’t stupid enough to walk around with these fuckers armed in his pockets, but all it takes is him wrapping the metal coil around the right part of the battery/detonator, and it’s ready. Gently, he places the first one underneath the car.

He shifts back to the rabbit and hurries to the next car. He only has a few minutes until the charge blows and he’s only done this in the right time-frame once before. His hands shake as he connects this bomb, arming it. Ghoul doesn’t know if it’s nerves or something else, but it doesn’t matter. Soon all four bombs are ready and, by his own math, they have all of 30 seconds before they blow.

He peeks his head out from behind the tire, trying to spot a clear path back to the others. There’s too many Dracs standing close to one another directly in front of him, but to his right one of the Dracs has been separated a bit. There's a small space where he can run and will, hopefully, not be trampled or shot.

Ghoul focuses on the sight of Jet, standing right on the other side of where he has to run. If he can make it to Jet, then it’ll be okay. 

He takes off, sprinting as fast as his legs can take him. The laserbeams in the air are far above his head and his vision narrows to the spot beside Jet that he has to get to. He’s almost there when a Drac shouts something and steps into his path. 

Ghoul skids to a halt, backing up and trying to go around it as hands reach out to grab him. He’s nearly out of it’s reach when another Drac grabs him. 

Panicking, Ghoul kicks wildly and tries to sink his teeth into the fucker’s arm. But it has a good hold on him and, before he can even change form, a small cuff is being snapped around his leg.

 _Fuck_. Not this again. 

He can feel the cuff’s immediate effect, muting his power and making it impossible for him to change back. It feels suffocating, draining, but he continues to fight back. He gets a good kick in, landing hard against the Drac holding him. It’s grip lessons and he’s able to jump free.

He doesn’t feel the impact. All he can do is run, run and pray that he can get far enough away from the bomb before it-

The ground shakes beneath him as all four bombs detonate at once. The force of the explosion sends him flying, rolling backwards a few times until he hits something hard. 

Dizzy and disoriented, Ghoul curls in on himself.

He can’t hear anything and his head feels too jumbled to try and figure out if he’s hurt. But then someone touches him, hands strong on his back.

He tries to fight back but the second he opens his eyes he’s met with Kobra’s concerned face peering over him. He’s signing something but Ghoul can’t answer because his vision is still blurry and he can’t speak in this form. 

Instead he gestures as much as he can down to the stupid fucking cuff on his paw. It sends little spikes of…. Energy? Electricity maybe? Into him, stopping his ability everytime he tries to use it. It doesn’t quite hurt but he’s not really trying. It’s more like he’s just testing the boundaries. He’s certain that this thing can and _will_ hurt him if he fully tries to fight against it any harder.

Kobra, thankfully gets the message, and lifts the cuffed paw to inspect it. He frowns and Ghoul can see his mind working full speed.

The last time this happened, ages ago, they’d had to blast it off. Fucking shit _hurt_ but it was better than being forced to stay in one form. That shit isn’t natural, not for Ghoul. He was made for this, made to shift and change. He can’t imagine not being able to simply drift into another form whenever he needed to.

“Okay,” Kobra says, making Ghoul realize he can hear again- at least, as much as he usually can. “I think I can get it off. But we gotta get some tools if ya dont’ want me ‘t just blast it off.”

Ghoul shakes his head as hard as he can. He loves Kobra, but no way in hell is he letting him fire a blaster at his leg, thanks very much.

Poison skidds over a second later, their mask already being shoved off their face as they drop down to their knees beside him. Their eyes are wide, fearful, and they seem to be looking him over for injuries.

Kobra, bless him, shakes his head. “ ‘es fine. Just th’ cuff we gotta worry ‘bout.” Poison frowns as Ghoul shifts so they can see the heavy metal strapped to his back paw. They reach out and touch it carefully, as if it’s going to explode if they’re too careless. If he could talk, he’d certainly be making fun of them for how worried they look right now.

Or maybe he’d joke about how he might just keep the cuff as a new fashion statement, make them laugh a little so they don’t keep worrying like this. As it is, Jet comes over next, Girly by his side.

She walks over to Ghoul, plopping down beside him and crossing her arms over her chest. He does his best to give her a look that says he wants to know what’s on her mind. 

“I wanted to see th’ bombs go off,” She pouts, dead serious and clearly peeved.

Ghoul laughs in his head because yeah, now that the immediate fear is over, he also wishes he’d gotten to see the explosions better. He bets they looked cool as fuck.

“Girly we went over this,” Poison tries, exasperated. “It was too dangerous. You needed ‘t be inside with Doc ‘n Pony ‘n case somethin’ went wrong.”

“But I could’a helped!”

She kicks at the sand with her sticker covered boot and huffs. Ghoul rolls over onto his back and looks up at her upside down. Her frown wobbles and when he makes his ears flap it turns into a real smile. 

The Girl reaches out and scratches the good place behind his ear, making his eyes close and his body relax.

“Did we win at least?” she asks.

_____________________________

It’s dark before Kobra has finally managed to get the stupid cuff off of Ghoul. The second the last screw is out and the metal is falling down onto the table, he shifts back.

Or- well he tries to. Nothing happens. 

He tries again, closing his eyes and focusing hard on changing back into his human form. Nothing. 

Panicked, Ghoul looks up to Jet. He’s been sitting on the opposite side of the table Ghoul’s sitting on while Kobra worked. 

“Is it not working?” Jet asks, leaning forward as Ghoul tries again and fails.

“Is he stuck like that?”

Poison’s voice is high, afraid. They’re tugging their hands through their hair as they lean over Kobra’s shoulder.

“I doubt it,” Jet says calmly, extending his hand to Ghoul.

Ghoul lends his head into Jet’s palm. He’s tired, just like the last time he had one of these cuffs on him. But not tired enough to where he shouldn’t be able to change. It doesn't work like that. The only times he hasnt been able to change is when he’s unconscious or like- nearly fucking dead. 

And he’s neither right now. Just sleepy.

“C’n I take a look?” Jet asks him, letting his index finger gently scratch along Ghoul’s cheek.

Ghoul nods and feels Jet’s magic flow through him a moment later. It’s not quite healing, more like he’s searching for something that might need healing. It’s an odd feeling, like someone petting him just a bit too rough, but it’s not painful. 

Thankfully it only lasts a few more seconds before Jet is pulling his hand away.

“Well?” Poison asks, leaning further over Kobra’s shoulder.

Jet shakes his head. “He’s not hurt. And it’s not permanent. The technology is different than before but I don’t think it did any lastin’ damage.”

“Then why can’t he change back?” Kobra questions.

“My only guess ‘s that since his power was blocked for th’ past few hours, that it’s just gonna take some time for him to get it back to normal.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Cherri’s voice sounds from the kitchen. 

They all look over to him as he strides in, placing a can of Power Pup in front of each of them. He even has a little plate with some on it for Ghoul.

Jet thanks him for the food and digs in before answering with his mouth full.

“I dunno how else to say it. Like, it’s like when you turn a water hose off, yeah? It takes a second for the water to travel back through the hose when you turn it on again.”

Kobra stabs his fork into his can . “Yeah but that only takes like, a few seconds. It’s been longer than that.”

“Well I mean, ‘s not an exact science, guys. His magic was completely blocked for hours. It’s still there though; I felt it. He just needs t’ give it time.”

Ghoul starts nibbling at his food, carefully because even like this his mouth is still sensitive. He’s mostly healed, but the ache is going to take a long time to go away and he’s going to have the scar for the rest of his life. 

He wonders if maybe, if he hadn’t gotten all caught up in his head about this, then things would have gone differently. Maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck like this. 

“Right, Ghoul?”

He glances up, not having heard anything Poison was saying. They give him a fond, yet exasperated look.

“I was sayin’ that you prob’bly won’t mind at all stayin’ like tha’ ‘cos now you’ll get pets all the time.”

If Ghoul could roll his eyes he would. But they’re not wrong. There’s a reason he likes to stay in a different form whenever he’s upset. It just… helps everything narrow down to what’s important. Everything feels somehow more manageable when he’s not human. If he was ever really human at all. 

So he nods and continues eating. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he started eating. Just another reason to hate the cuffs. He wonders though, how the City knows how to short circuit his power. Not even he understands it and it’s _his_ power, so how do they know what to do? 

“So what?” Poison questions. “We’re jus’ gonna wait for ‘im ‘t get his power back? There’s nothin’ we can do?”

They don’t sound accusing anymore but there’s still that little twinge at the edge of their voice that betrays their concern. They’ve been a little… smothering ever since he got hurt. And it’s sweet, he’ll never turn down extra cuddles or anything, but he doesn’t want them to worry more than they need to. 

Ghoul stands back up and walks across the table towards Poison. They frown and tilt their head as he climbs off the edge and into their lap. Hesitantly, almost like they’re afraid they’re gonna hurt him, they bring one hand to gently stroke along his back.

“I think ‘es tryin’ to tell you to ease up on th’ worryin’,” Cherri says, amused. 

Ghoul looks up at Poison and meets their eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

He nods as best he can. 

“Okay.”

__________________________

That night, Ghoul curls up against Poison on their shared bed, just like always. And, while this isn’t the first time he’s been in a form other than human while falling asleep, it’s definitely the weirdest. Because it’s like his brain isn’t upset about the being an animal thing. But it’s more like it wants to be a _different_ animal right now. But he can’t. And it’s frustrating and he seriously isn’t too hopeful that he’s going to get any amount of sleep at this rate.

But he’s exhausted, the weight of the day is setting heavy over him. Poison breathes quietly beside him in a steady rhythm. They’re not asleep though. 

“Are you still awake?” they ask not a moment later.

He wiggles and scoots his head up to look at them. They smile softly, their face relaxing as they move their hand to his head and start petting gently.

“You gotta stop scarin’ me, Ghoulie.”

He wants to say I’m sorry, to apologize for being reckless. But he _can’t_.

Poison sighs. “I know you weren’t tryin’ to this time. But I just… what if you get hurt when you’re not in your human form? You tend to be such small animals and- and if you get shot or- or exploded then it’ll be so much _worse_.”

Their voice breaks and Ghoul’s heart aches as he watches them sniff and scrub their eyes with their other hand. He didn’t mean to scare them. Not this badly. He just, sometimes doesn’t think and forgets that he needs to take his own safety into consideration. 

Today wasn’t even that wreckless of him. But it was still enough to make Poison like this, scared. 

He doesn’t quite get it, what they see in him that makes them care so much about him. But he doesn’t doubt it for a second. He knows that they love him. 

With nothing better to do, Ghoul leans his head into their hand, trying to convey just how much he loves them and how sorry he is for scaring them like this. It’s also a promise though. A promise not to be as reckless. He’s going to be better, for his family’s sake. 

Poison laughs wetly and sniffs again, but a weak smile pulls their lips upwards.

“I love you too, hon.”

They fall asleep with Ghoul laying on their chest, his face pressed against their neck and their arms snug around him. And, when he wakes in the morning, he’s human again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is paritially also me slowly getting my crap together and making hcs for how Ghoul got his mouth all cut up and how Jet lost his eye. We'll get to that soon enough haha.  
> also also, Kobra absoulty is going to spend the next month studying the ever loving Crap out of that cuff. He wants to know how it works so maybe they can make it so they can't be affected by the City's tech. 
> 
> Please feel free to let me know what you think!


	23. Wiped that smirk from my face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *graphic descriptions of gore (revolving around the face and mouth)  
> *blood  
> *violence  
> *death threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So I've been meaning to write about how Ghoul got his face scar and Jet lost his eyes for ages. And here we are. This was written in one day but I'm pretty happy with it. I do plan on having a second part after this but I'm not sure when that's gonna be posted.   
> Please read the trigger warnings in the summary above because this is one of the more graphic things I've written.
> 
> This wasn't edited by anyone but me, so if there's any mistakes please let me know and I'll fix them right away!  
> Hope you all enjoy!

Ghoul runs his hands along the shelves as he walks, feeling along the little gap between the ending of one and the beginning of the next. Jet’s following close behind him, nearly hovering. 

Not that Ghoul minds. Jet’s been on edge lately, having your eye accidentally shot out will do that to someone. It’s been a rough few days, for all of them.

After all, Ghoul was the one who had to hold the mirror so Jet could sew himself back up. Kobra had been watching the Girl and Poison’s hands shake way too much. It wasn’t something he enjoyed but, at least, it’s over now. Jet’s healing and he’s learning how to do stuff without his left eye. Pretty soon, it’ll be like he’s never had two eyes at all.

Wow, Ghoul thinks, that was depressing.

He focuses back on the shelves that he’s supposed to be scrounging for supplies. They're at Tommy’s today. Poison was bitching earlier because they ran out of paints like- halfway through something they were making. Ghoul was itching to get out of the diner anyway so, here he is. 

And Jet had insisted he not go alone and had followed him into the ‘Am. 

Ghoul’s pretty sure he just didn’t want him to drive the car. It’s not _his_ fault he flipped it last time he was behind the wheel. It was the Dracs’. It was in his way!

“What’d about this?” 

Ghoul turns around as Jet shows him a small wooden crate. Inside are a variety of different paints, some in rolled up tubes and others in containers with lids. Most have the color name scrawled somewhere on them with markers. Ghoul can’t really read most of them, a combination of the differences in handwriting and foreign words he’s not really practiced with yet, but he’s able to pick out the shade of green Poison ran out of. 

Hopefully they’ll let him have some of their candy stash for this. He’s been eyeing it for weeks but hasn’t been able to find the best time to sneak some chocolate out of the pillowcase shoved in the bathroom cabinet. 

He really hopes this’ll earn him a _whole_ piece of candy. It’s been ages since he’s had any and he’s been craving chocolate for weeks.

The bell above the door jingles, followed by the sound of footsteps entering the shop. He doesn’t pay them any mind, too busy shifting through the various paints to see if there’s any other colors he thinks Poison will like.

He picks up a small, half empty tube labeled hot pink and turns it over in his hand. Poison loves bright colors like this. Maybe they could use it in the mural thing they're making on the diner wall?

Whoever came in are standing at the end of the aisle, just staring. He feels their eyes on him and looks up, confused.

Four ‘joys stand a few feet away, faces rough and pulled tight in anger. They’re talking but Ghoul can’t make out what they’re saying. But it’s pretty obvious they’re talking about him.

“Jet?” he asks, shooting a glance at him. “What’re they saying’?”

“I- somethin’ about they thought you were dead? But they don’t sound too happy that you’re not.”

Ghoul has a bad feeling about this. He’s pretty sure these ‘joys are familiar. But he met so many people that it’s impossible for him to remember all of them. He’s almost certain though that he should remember these guys.

Just as he’s about to just walk the other direction and buy the paints and get the hell out of here, the ‘joys start walking over. They come to a stop right in front of him and Jet.

“Can we help you?” Jet asks, false pleasantry in his voice.

The tallest one, with a cracked orange mask over their eyes, is the one who answers.

“You remember us, Ghoul?”

They spit his name, like he’s the one thing they hate the most. But their voice is so familiar, it’s right on the tip of his tongue. He’s certain he knows them. 

“Uh-”

“How could you forget us?” asks the second person.

They’re shorter than the first, but built nearly as sturdy as Jet. Their sneering smile reveals broken teeth and Ghoul’s gut sinks as the pieces click.

He knows these guys alright. But he wishes he didn’t.

Tall one is Pistol, the leader, and the other two are his henchmen basically. Ghoul doesn’t remember their names. But he _does_ remember that they let him crash at their hideout years ago. They’d been absolute dicks but they had food so he didn’t have much of an option other than to suck it up and ask for their help. But they gave him like- an old moldy can of beans and made him sit away from the fire that night. They’d eaten real food as he watched a few feet away, cold and shoveling the moldy food into his mouth because he was desperate. 

He’d been an angry kid back then, angry and hungry. So he did what anyone would do in his situation. Waited until they all fell asleep and stole their food. 

He has forgotten about it over the years and had, wrongfully, assumed they’d forgotten by now too. But, judging by the looks on their faces right now, they haven't forgotten one _bit_.

“Ghoul?” Jet questions, one hand going to his blaster even in his hesitation.

“Dunno who they are,” he lies. “Pro’lly someone else with ‘a sim’lar name.”

Pistol narrows his eyes and smiles. It’s creepy as hell and Ghoul feels his stomach flip.

 _Will_ he and Jet be able to take these guys on if they have to?

Jet can’t shoot very well anymore and Ghoul’s never been the best shot to begin with. Not the best odds. Especially not when a physical fight would just put them at a similar disadvantage. 

“You’re lyin’,” Pistol says lowly.

Ghoul wonders if Tommy can hear them. Maybe he can kick these guys out and-

Pistol makes a motion with his hand and his goons pull out their weapons, training them on Ghoul instantly. In less than a second Jet has his gun out as well.

“Put them down,” he demands sharply.

It’s a bluff. The chances of Jet actually hitting them is so slim it’s not even worth trying. But the idiots don’t know that. If they were stupid enough to get their shit stolen by a seven year old, then maybe they’re stupid enough to fall for this.

Besides, jet’s scary as hell when he wants to be.

Ghoul slowly sets the crate of paints back on the shelf, keeping the two colors he picked for Poison in his hand. 

“Easy big guy,” Pistol mocks. “We ain’t after you. Jus’ th’ rat at your heels.”

Ghoul takes a step forward. No point trying to avoid this fight. 

“You wan’t me ‘t be a rat? Cause I will chew through your fuckin’ guts if I have to.”

Pistol grabs Ghoul by the front of his jacket, effortlessly lifting him off the ground. Ghoul struggles and curses, already beginning to shift into a rat to keep his promise. But before he can finish, something hits the side of his head and lights explode behind his eyes.

When he manages to open his eyes he’s on the ground, a boot pressing hard into his chest. He can’t get up, can hardly breathe. Pistol looms over him, something glistening in their hand. It’s not a gun. It’s-?

Fuck its a _knife_. Ghoul tries to switch into the rat again but his head’s pounding and he can’t focus long enough to shift.

Blindly he flails, trying to get Pistol’s foot off of him and- and _fuck_ where is Jet!

“You’re not getting away until you pay for what you stole from us.”

Ghoul growls. “You ain’t gettin’ _shit_! Fuck you!”

Pistol sneers and kneels down, keeping all of his weight on the foot pressing into Ghoul’s chest. His lungs scream as they try to keep up with the pressure. 

“I’d be a bit nicer ‘t th’ person holdin’ a knife so close to your face, Ghoulie.” He presses the tip of it against Ghoul’s neck, forcing him to stop fighting unless he wants his throat cut. With every ounce of hate he has in him, Ghoul glares up at Pistol. If he’s gonna kill him, might as well get it over with. Because if he gets out of this, he is going to make Pistol regret ever walking into this fucking store.

“Eat sand, asshole!” 

He spits right in Pistol’s face.

Slowly, with a dangerous sort of calm, Piston wipes his face clean. His eyes are dark and dangerous when he seethes down at Ghoul.

“You’re gonna regret that, rat.”

He lifts his knife from Ghoul’s neck and, before he can even move, sticks his other hand in Ghoul’s mouth. And then he’s bringing the knife down to the other corner of his mouth and cutting.

Ghoul screams and tries to thrash but the weight holding him down is too much. He’s never felt pain like this before and it feels like his whole face is on _fire_.

Pistol laughs and flicks the knife deeper into Ghoul’s face, twisting it up and continuing to slice. Light flashes in his vision, everything whiting out until the only thing he knows is the agony that’s coursing through him.

_______________________________________

At Ghoul’s first scream, Jet gives up on trying not to actually hurt these guys. He plows his elbow into the first person’s face, making them fall back as they desperately clutch their bloody nose. He goes to lunge for Ghoul, to drag the dude with the knife off of him, but the third person tackles him.

Jet’s disoriented longer than he should be, still trying to learn how to get his bearings with his depth perception all fucked like it is. By the time he’s knocking the third person over the head with the blunt end of his gun, Ghoul’s screaming again.

He’s nearly sick as he watches the leader jab his knife further into Ghoul’s skin. As he starts to drag it up, Jet is there, pressing the end of his blaster against the guy’s forehead.

The leader stops cutting but leaves the knife still inside Ghoul’s face. 

“Take the knife out or I fry your brain inside your skull.”

The leader laughs. “Fine by me. I already got my payment.”

They yank the knife out, causing Ghoul to let out a choked scream again. Jet presses the blaster into the leader’s head a little harder.

“I should kill you right now,” He growls.

“You could. But then my guys would kill you too. And then who will patch poor little Ghoul up? He’ll bleed out soon, you know.”

Jet feels a blaster press into the back of his skull. 

Fuck.

“You’re not worth it,” Jet tells him, pouring every ounce of hate he feels for this person into it. “If i _ever_ see you again, you will _pray_ that I killed you today. Do you understand?”

A flash of fear comes over the leader's face and they nod slowly. Jet presses his blaster even further into his skin to make sure he understands, and then takes it away. He holds it up in the air and the blaster against his head moves as well.

The crew literally runs, scrambling outside and jumping into an old beat up truck. Jet doesn't watch them drive away. 

He drops down beside Ghoul, stomach rolling as he takes in the mess of what’s left of his face. There's blood everywhere and Ghoul’s not moving.

“What the fuck is going _on_ out here?”

Tommy rounds the corner of the aisle, hands on his hips like he’s about to start bitching about annoying customers again. But he takes one look at the two of them and his eyes go wide. He turns on his heel and hurries away.

 _Bastard_. But Jet doesn’t really expect anything less.

Shaking, he lays his hands over Ghoul’s face. He closes his eyes and _tries_ to dig inside himself for his power. But he can’t get a grip on it, can hardly even _feel_ it. 

It’s been distant since he got hurt and Poison assured him that it was just because he needed to recover a bit more before he could use it again. But it’s been like- a week now!

He’s _fine_! So why the hell isn’t it _working_?

Why can’t he heal Ghoul!

Jet squeezes his eyes shut and _tries_. He puts everything he has into healing Ghoul, to stopping the bleeding at the _least_.

He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know it didn’t work. 

Warm, sticky blood coats his hands when he does open his eyes. Ghoul’s unconscious, a small mercy so he doesn’t have to feel the pain of Jet pressing on the open wound. 

A sound comes from his left and Jet turns in time to watch Tommy sit down beside them. He has a large, white tin in his hands that he opens and sets down. A med kit.

“How can I help?” he asks.

Jet doesn't pause to balk at the strangeness of _Tommy_ , of all people, helping. He just starts giving orders, asking for something to hold over the wound to stop the bleeding. For disinfectants.

He does the stitches right there on the floor, handing shaking as he has to go slow so he doesn't mess up. Ghoul stays unconscious through all of it, not even flinching as Jet threads the needle through his skin over and over.

It’s not until nearly an hour later that Jet _actually_ begins to process what’s just happened. He sits there, in shock and physically unable to move, and stares at the damage.

Ghoul’s face is a mess. From the corner of his mouth all the way up to his hairline, runs a jagged, deep cut from the asshole’s blade. His cheek was cut completely through but he was lucky enough that there wasn’t any major damage to the inside of his mouth. The entire left side of his face is cut in half by the stitches holding it together and Jet feels _sick_.

How could someone do this?

 _Why_ would someone do this?

“I called your crew, told them what happened. They’re on their way.”

Jet barely registers Tommy’s words. 

How did he let this happen?

Ghoul’s been through so much. There’s been so many times he hasn’t been able to protect him. And here Jet is, fucking up again and letting Ghoul get tortured right in fucking _front_ of him!

He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, hardly registering the pain that comes from pressing on the barley healed socket of his left eye. 

He should have fucking _killed_ the bastards. And, if he _does_ ever see them again, he is going to make fucking _sure_ that they suffer. He swears on the Witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for hurting Ghoul! The next part in this will be soft I swear!  
> Let me know what you think?


	24. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> One of my new years resolutions was to get back into writing this universe more often. I love it a lot and I've really missed posting it more often. I wrote this all today and so it's fairly un-edited. But I'm proud of it and so I wanted it to be the first thing I posted for this this year.  
> Huge thank you to @i-burn-bright for suggesting I do this one rather than a way more angsty one i had planned hahahaha  
> I'm gonna try and post to this at least once a month, maybe more.  
> Okay, I hope you all enjoy!

It’s one of the, unfortunately, many nights where no-one in the diner can sleep. 

They’ve all tried of course, laid down in the darkness of their rooms waiting for sleep to come. But after just a few hours of fruitless trying, they’ve all given up and have wandered back into the main area of the diner.

Kobra is hunched over his Vend-a-hack, focused on fixing the bug that’s made it stop working. Meanwhile, Poison’s in the kitchen, fixing up a late night snack for them all. The Girl, who’s sleepy but just as much _not sleepy enough to sleep_ as the others, sits on the counter. 

“Alright, Girly, can ya help me find th’ crackers Jet hid?” 

She grins and points to the cabinet above her head. 

Poison leans over to kiss the top of her curls and opens the cabinets. The snack crackers Jet’s been hoarding, for special occasions he said, sit in plain view. 

Poison grabs them and opens the pack. They pull out four packs of the crackers before putting the box back. 

They open one of the little packs with their teeth before breaking one piece in half to hand to the Girl. She smiles and begins immediately munching on it. 

Humming to themself, Poison hoists the Girl up on their hip, carrying her and the snacks into the other room.

They find Jet listening to the radio quietly, staring out the window. He’s clearly lost in thought and startles a bit when they put a hand on his shoulder. 

When he notices it’s just them, he smiles a little. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, not quite meeting their eyes.

“Brought a snack.”

Poison hands him a pack of crackers and the Girl babbles something that _almost_ sounds like what they said.

“Ah, well thank you both,” Jet says, mainly to the Girl. 

She mumbles something else that almost sounds like you’re welcome, before Poison goes over to their brother. He takes his snack with a wordless nod and begins munching away immediately. 

The Girl babbles away as Poison carries her over to Ghoul. 

He’s sitting on the floor, mostly underneath the bar. There’s an old pipe cleaner in his hands, twisted up into a tangled mess. 

They sit down beside him and nudge his shoulder while the Girl moves to sit in their lap. 

“Hey,” Ghoul mumbles, too quiet. 

Poison hands the Girl another half-cracker as they scooch closer to Ghoul, lifting up the side of the blanket he has draped over his shoulders and wrapping themself and the Girl up too. It’s cold out here at night and Poison doesn’t want her to get sick.

“Hey,” they answer, their shoulders touching Ghoul’s. 

There’s not much to say, even if it feels too-quiet, too empty in here without the constant noise they’re used to during the day. 

But the barely audible music coming from Jet’s radio is nice, calming. Keeps their thoughts just on the right side of too much. Getting lost in your head, this late at night, is never a good thing. 

Poison’s grateful that no-one else can sleep either. Not in the sense that they’re glad they’re all gonna be sleep deprived in the morning, Witch knows Kobra needs at least _some_ sleep every once in a while. But they’re just… grateful to not be alone right now.

Ghoul’s body heat is keeping them warm, the Girl is dozing in their lap. It's nice. It keeps them from getting too deep into their own thoughts. 

They feel the blanket shift beside them and turn in time to see a small grey cat in the place Ghoul was just sitting. Poison smiles and gently pets the top of his head. 

Ghoul purrs and clambers up to curl into their lap along with the Girl. Poison re-adjusts the blanket and settles back down, their head resting against the wooden bar. 

Jet, when they look over, is staring out the window still. He’s looking up now, rather than just blankly out in the distance. They can see, even from here, that he’s watching the stars. 

Maybe they could all go up to the roof, bring a pile of blankets and just watch the nighttime sky for a while. With them all cuddled up, the cold wouldn’t be too bad. 

They glance down, smiling as they watch the Girl pet Ghoul. He’s purring loudly now, eyes closed and relaxed. The baby is smiling, intently focused.

Poison feels their heart melt, just a little. It’s insane how much they love the Girl, strange how much they care for Ghoul. They try not to think too hard about the way their heart does something _different_ when they think about him. That’s a bit too far in the _don’t think about it_ territory. 

Because they don’t know what it means or what it even is. It’s just… different.

Poison shakes those thoughts from their head and stands carefully. The Girl wiggles back to their hip and Ghoul hops down to the floor, changing back into human form with ease.

“How ‘bout we go up to the roof?” Poison questions aloud, drawing everyone’s attention.

“It’s cold.”

Poison rolls their eyes at their brother. “Yeah but if we all go, we won’t be cold.”

“Actually,” Jet interrupts quietly. “I think I know a better place than the roof.”

They dig their keys out of their pocket, something they’re getting strangely good at doing one handed, and toss them to Jet. 

“Lead the way, Star.”

_____________________________________

Jet parks the car in the middle of no-where. 

Everyone else in the car is looking out the windows, confused as to why this random place is so much better than the roof. 

He undoes his seat belt and turns around in his seat.

“C’mon, you’ll see why once we get out.”

They all follow him out of the car, dragging blankets with them in a sleepy haze. The Girl is napping in Poison’s arms, hardly rousing with all the movement. 

Once everyone’s standing in the sand, Jet tilts his head up. 

“Look up.”

Above them, the desert sky has come to life. Trillions upon trillions of stars shine over them, more constellations than can ever be named. The moon, full and bright, illuminates everything in a soft blue glow.

“Fuck,” Poison mumbles under their breath.

Jet smiles.

“It’s better if you’re laying down.”

It doesn’t take long for them all to have created a make-shift nest of blankets in the sand, laying on their backs with their shoulders touching, staring up in awe at the sky.

“How come it’s brighter here?” Kobra questions without tearing his eyes away. 

“Dunno,” Jet answers honestly. “But it always is the brightest in the desert right here. They say that this is where the Witch frequents most often.”

He takes a deep breath, glancing over to Kobra beside him. His face is lit up with awe, the corner of his mouth tilted with a smile. He looks relaxed, more calm than Jet’s ever seen him on a sleepless night. 

“It’s where I chose my name,” Jet adds softly. 

Kobra rolls his head over to look at him, something gentle in his eyes that Jet can’t place.

Neither of them say anything and Jet can only hum when Ghoul tells him that’s “cool as fuck”.

Out of all the sleepless nights Jet’s had in his life, maybe this one isn’t so bad. Having his crew, as strangely as they all fit together, they _do_ fit together in ways he never thought possible. 

Tonight is a first for them, but Jet is certain that it won’t be the last time they visit this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small side note:  
> this all takes place somewhere between the four of them getting into their respective relationships. But like, Poison doesn't know they like Ghoul, while Ghoul Knows he likes them. And Kobra knows he likes Jet, Jet knows he likes Kobra, but they just, haven't made the leap of faith yet and told the other.  
> THe relationship stuff is barely there, but I just wanted to mention this here to avoid any confusion
> 
> also, also, this happens Before jets whole nearly dying for toddler girl thing.  
> Idk i feel bad for the timeline being all out of wack. But i never went into this expecting to keep a comprehensible timeline. like i knew it would be out of order but idk if it's gotten confusing or not. Let me know if you guys would want like, a small blip at the beginning notes saying when abouts in the timeline a oneshot is going to take place.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and please, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!


	25. 'Til you pick me off the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *mild blood/injury but nothing graphic  
> *unspecified slurs directed at a trans character  
> *it's not quite thoughts of self harm, but a character does wish to be hurt for a better reason than they were (still could be triggering so i wanted to mention it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I'm currently in quarantine because my roommate had Covid so I may end up posting to this twice this month! I have the other chapter nearly finished so if I have time/energy I may get around to doing that.   
> This one is a chapter I've had in my docs for ages. I just couldn't figure out the ending for it without making it like Every other chapter with Ghoul. it's still pretty similar but I tried to make it vary a bit.   
> As always, I have my wonderful beta @i-burn-bright for her help on editing this chapter!
> 
> I hope that you all enjoy!

Look. You gotta believe him. 

Ghoul’s not an asshole, contrary to popular belief.

Sure, you could ask some rando out at the market and they’d probably tell you his personality is just as explosive as his bombs. And they’re not lying, not exactly. It doesn’t take much for him to start swinging, just a judgmental glance his way. Or, in this case, a muttered slur directed at one of his crew. Hell, he’s gotten in more fights for his crew than he has for himself. 

But no one seems to see the chivalry in that. All they care about is that Ghoul broke the arm of some guy who was like- a literal giant. At _least_ seven feet tall.

He doesn’t even get a thank you for that one, when it was Kobra that was taking the brunt of that asshole’s insults. Ghoul may be half fucking deaf but he heard what the jerk called Kobra loud and clear. 

So what if they’re banned from the market until next week? (you can’t really keep people away, especially not them. But Jet will probably make them stay home on like- _morals_ or something. 

Ghoul scowls to himself, arms crossed over his chest even as Jet dabs peroxide over the sand burns on his knees. It stings and Jet would probably give him a break if he told him, but Ghoul’s stubborn enough to keep quiet. He doesn’t need the pity, thanks.

And normally he doesn’t care what people think about him. They can all go fuck themselves if they have a problem with how he looks or acts or _whatever_. But he just doesn’t get how the others can just brush off shit like what happened today.

Clearly, Kobra heard what the dude said. He’s up on the roof now and Poison is sulking in their room because he won’t talk to them. So, why then have both Poison _and_ Jet been giving Ghoul the disappointed look since they left the market. 

Poison gives him that look all the time. Hell, at this point it’s their form of flirting because Ghoul just loves to annoy the fuck out of them. But Jet normally doesn’t really get upset unless he’s done something really stupid. 

Ghoul hisses as Jet presses something that most definitely is _not_ peroxide against one of the worst burns on his knee. The fucker is probably switching to alcohol without telling him.

“Sorry,” Jet says under his breath, eyes focused on dabbing away the bits of sand and dead skin. 

Ghoul doesn’t answer.

It’s not that he wants a thank you, that’s not why he does it, but like- it wouldn’t _hurt_ for them to at least care that he is willing to fight for them. It's a low blow and something he’d never, ever say out loud, but when Jet took those shots for The Girl everyone was always going on about it afterwards. How selfless it was. 

And while Ghoul wouldn’t even come close to comparing his skinned knees to getting shot twice in the gut, he also doesn’t know what to _do_ to make them realize that he would do _anything_ for his crew too.

He’s not starting these fights just for the hell of it. Half of the time the others barely let him out of their sights during claps. They probably don't _mean_ to, but they’re more overprotective of him than they are of the Girl some days. And yeah, Ghoul’s thankful as fucking _hell_ that he has them.

But he also isn’t a baby. He can fucking fight and he can _win_.

He doesn’t want to have to take a ray gun blast (or several) to make the others see that he would die for them as easily as they would for him. And he would never wish for their lives to be in danger in the first place. It’s just… frustrating to no end that they think he’s just doing this for the _kicks_ or whatever.

Jet taps his thigh lightly, pulling Ghoul from his thoughts long enough for him to meet his eyes. “ ‘s as clean as I can get it.”

Ghoul just nods. 

Jet twists to set the bottle of alcohol and rag down on the counter before turning back and placing his hands over Ghoul’s knees. 

“Hey, wait-” Ghoul says quickly, pulling his knees up to his chest despite the fact that it makes them start stinging again.

Concern flashes across Jet’s face and he retracts his hands hesitantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- um-”

Ghoul groans, cursing his stupid fucking words for failing him. Catching on, Jet shoves his hands into his jacket’s pockets as a sort of peace offering and waits patiently for Ghoul to collect his thoughts.

It’s not that he doesn’t want Jet to heal him. His knees do sorta hurt and it’s not going to be fun the next time he has to wear jeans. 

But it's just that this… isn’t _that_ big of a deal.

They’re skinned fucking knees. He’ll _live_. Jet shouldn’t waste his time or energy healing him. 

“You don’t gotta,” Ghoul mumbles, finding a stray string from his shorts and beginning to twist it around his finger. “ ‘m okay. ‘S nothin’.”

Jet nods and Ghoul can tell that he gets it. He normally does chill out with the overprotective stuff when Ghoul asks. Poison on the other hand will probably try and like- wrap his knees in bandages or something. 

Jet turns away, gathering the things he used and placing them back in the medkit lying open on the counter. Ghoul lets go of his legs and allows his feet to lightly kick at the chair underneath the table he’s sitting on. 

The Girl runs in, a piece of paper smushed against her chest and brandishing a crayon in one hand.

“Jet,” She shouts enthusiastically, bouncing up and down.

He turns around, a wide smile already in place as he uses her momentum to swing her up onto his hip. 

“Whatcha got kiddo?”

She shoves the paper into his hand and uses one grubby finger to point at whatever is on the page.

“I made tha’ for Kobra ‘ause he seems sad.”

Ghoul’s bad mood shifts, exposing a flash of warmth that he’s come to associate with The Girl. He hops down from the table while Jet starts praising the kid’s drawing skills. He has to nearly climb over Jet to see over his shoulder and look at what The Girl drew, but when he does he can’t help but feel his heart melt.

It’s a picture of Kobra and the Girl, sitting together around a campfire. They both have huge smiles and there are little hearts drawn all around them. It’s adorable as hell and damn near guaranteed to make Kobra feel better. 

“Tha’s fuckin’ amazin’ Girly,” Ghoul tells her as he leans over Jet to ruffle her hair. She squeaks and tries to pull away, giggling as she worms her way out of Jet’s arms and drops to the floor. 

Jet rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop Ghoul from chasing after her, arms outstretched as a warning that he can and will tickle her if he catches her. She squeals and books it into the other room, Ghoul hot on her heels.

He lets her stay a few steps ahead as he chases her around a booth. She glances behind her and, after seeing him so close, squeals out another fit of giggles. Ghoul wiggles his fingers and laughs as well.

The girl rounds the corner into the hallway where the bedrooms are and Ghoul follows close behind. But she ducks into Jet’s room, a known neutral area, and Ghoul comes to a skidding stop as Poison steps out of their room. He doesn’t slow down in time and ends up sending both of them to the floor.

“What the _hell_ , Ghoul?” Poison shouts, astounded and trying very hard to sound mad at him.

He simply groans in response and makes no move to get up. Poison is actually very comfy to lay on. 

Unfortunately, Poison can never stay still for long and they push him off with the flat of their palm on his shoulders. He hits the floor with a grunt. Rude.

Why does he love them again, he wonders, truthfully more grouchy than actually pissed.

“Kobra down yet?” Poison asks, flipping their hair out of their eyes in that purposefully cocky way that tells him they’re more worried than they’re letting on.

He just shrugs in response and lets Poison wander off to go find their brother. The Girl comes back out of Jet’s room a second later but she walks right past him, the paper for Kobra still in her hand.

Alone now, Ghoul sighs and lets his head thump back against the wall.

Is it selfish that he wants someone to at least _acknowledge_ what happened today? 

Does that make him a bad person?

Probably.

He’s not exactly a picture of morals. Example A: him annoying Poison just now when they’re clearly worried about their brother.

The front door slams shut and the other’s voices filter through the diner. He can hear Poison talking to Kobra but he can’t make out what they’re saying. Not that he really cares, if Kobra’s down from the roof then the worst is probably over.

Even so, Ghoul stays still in the shadows of the hallway as the two of them pass by on their way to the kitchen. He watches Kobra sign that he’s fine at least twice in that short amount of time where Ghoul’s able to see his hands. But Poison doesn't look convinced. They’re such a worrier. 

He listens as hard as he can around the sharp ringing in his ears to hear if Poison finally gives in and accepts that Kobra’s fine, that he probably just needed to be alone for a bit. But, downside of being basically fuckin’ deaf, Ghoul can’t make out a word Poison says.

Eavesdropping is no fun when you can’t hear shit. Fucking bullshit.

“Hey-”

Ghoul jumps so hard that he bangs his head against the wall behind him. He’s already reaching for the blaster on his hip out of pure instinct but he catches Jet’s bewildered expression just in time. Ghoul slowly releases the breath he was holding and relaxes his arm, embarrassment flooding him at how jumpy he’s being.

He knows it’s safe here. They have like, actual fucking security things that Kobra and him set up. An alarm will go off if anyone gets within a certain distance of the diner. It can be annoying when they’re expecting a friend but life saving when a patrol finds its way to them.

“Ghoul?” Jet asks cautiously, stepping back to give him some space.

Great.

It’s been a long time now since he’s been on his own, huddling in abandoned buildings and scrounging around for everything. But those sorts of things, the instincts living like that gives you, they don’t go away. Even when Ghoul eats every day and has an honest to Witch _mattress_ to sleep on every night, he still can’t shake things like this. Getting startled and reverting back to thinking every loud noise is a threat.

At this point, it’s just annoying. He wishes he could rewrite his brain, make it realize that his friends aren’t a threat. He hates that he keeps doing this, keeps having to fight between the two.

“ ‘m fine,” He assures Jet with as much certainty as he can muster. 

He moves his hand completely away from his blaster and stands, Jet following him up.

“Do you wanna- I-” Jet shakes his head and tries again. “Are you alright?”

“ ‘course. Told ya, ‘m fine. You jus’ scared me sneakin’ up on me, Starman.”

Jet frowns, forehead creasing just like Poison’s does when they’re about to go off on him for doing something stupid. 

“Ghoul-”

And maybe Ghoul’s just got too much on his mind, and is still hung up over earlier, but he doesn’t give Jet the chance to finish before he’s bolting. 

“I’m gonna be in th’ shed if you need me,” He says hurriedly, already stepping out of Jet’s way and all but running to the door.

Jet calls his name behind him but Ghoul pretends he doesn’t hear him. He keeps walking outside, to the shed. He stands in front of his work bench and tries to distract himself with his latest project.

_____________________________________

It’s hours later, long after the sun has gone down, that the door to the shed creaks open. Ghoul has his back to it, hunched over the scattered remains of what used to be an AC unit he’s been trying to piece back together. It’s slow going, since he doesn’t exactly have all of the pieces, but if all goes well they’ll have cool air by the end of the season.

Kobra knows Ghoul didn’t hear him come in, so he makes sure to flip the light switch off and on to get his attention. Even so, Ghoul turns around in a heartbeat, brandishing a screwdriver like a weapon. 

He relaxes once he notices it’s him though, so Kobra takes that as his cue to walk closer. He lets his eyes roam over the scattered parts and, from how much of it has been put back together, he can tell Ghoul’s been at this for a while. Too long.

So, Kobra plops down beside Ghoul and bumps their shoulders together to get his attention. He glances at him curiously, a hint of fear flashing behind his eyes.

It only serves to make him even more interested in what’s on Ghoul’s mind today. The kid is notoriously hard to read, even by Kobra’s standards. He’s always masking what he’s really feeling with something else, making it impossible for someone to help him unless he wants them to. 

‘How’s it coming?’ Kobra signs, gesturing after to the parts in front of them.

Ghoul just shrugs. 

“Gonna be a while.”

‘Anything I can do to help?’

“Not really. I just gotta figure out which parts ‘m missin’ and then actually find ‘em instead ‘a startin’ fights ‘n shit.”

Ah. Bingo.

The great thing about Ghoul, that Kobra’s learned, is that if you can get him talking, he’ll usually accidentally say why he’s upset. He may seem pretty thoughtless at first but Ghoul’s head always seems to be going too fast for his own good. Kobra knows the feeling.

‘Thanks for that, by the way,’ Kobra tells him, smiling softly. ‘You really kicked that dude’s ass.’

Ghoul snorts and rolls his eyes but something in his guard lowers. A part of Kobra wonders if Poison chewed him out earlier and that’s why he’s holed himself up in the shed.

Poison and Ghoul are… weird to say the least. They fight a lot, mostly over small things, but it’s like, they don’t fight over what’s _actually_ bothering them. More often than not, they’ll blow up over nothing and it’ll end in Ghoul hiding out in the shed while Poison smothers Kobra like he’s fucking dying. 

That’s why, at least part of why, he’s here right now. Ghoul needs to get whatever’s on his head out into the open. And while Kobra isn’t really in the right place for a long conversation right now, he hopes that him listening to what Ghoul has to say will be enough. 

It bothers Kobra, whenever he gets in moods like this. Bottles shit up. And sure, it’s not like he has much room to talk about bottling up shit that’s bad for him and keeping it all in his head. But he does know that, usually, after he finally lets whatever it is out, he does feel better. 

But, in order for him to do that, he needs to get Ghoul talking first. They’re not making any progress like this. 

‘You okay?’ Kobra asks, gesturing to his bandaged knees.

The fact that they’re bandaged at all, and not simply healed, means that Ghoul didn’t let Jet heal him. It’s a huge red flag.

“Yeah.”

Ghoul won’t quite look at him, too busy messing with a bolt in his hand. 

‘Do they hurt?’

At this, Ghoul looks up. He stares at Kobra for a second but he can’t figure out what he’s looking for because Ghoul’s hair is purposefully falling down over his face. 

“Kinda,” He admits under his breath. 

‘Want to see if Jet will heal them for you?”

Ghoul shakes his head hard. 

“No!” He all but shouts, before taking in Kobra’s involuntary wince and lowering his voice again. “No. It’s okay.”

‘He won’t mind healing you.’

“That’s th’ point, Kobes.”

Ah. Got him. 

‘The point? What- that Jet doesn’t mind healing us when we’re hurt?’

“That he always has to heal _me_ ,” Ghoul insists, frustratedly shoving the hair out of his eyes in one quick motion. “It’s always me. I get hurt all the time and I don’t even do anything worth it when I do.”

Kobra frowns and tries to find the right words. 

‘What do you mean?’

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

‘Promise,’ Kobra assures him, sticking out his pinky so Ghoul can link his own.

Once it’s official, Ghoul settles back onto the stool.

“You guys always do somethin’ meaningful when you get hurt. Like- like saving someone’s ass ‘n getting a hit cause ‘a it. All I _do_ Kobes, is get stupid fucking scraped knees or I catch another mother fuckin’ cold because I can’t seem to go a whole season without getting sick!”

“Ghoul…”

Ghoul tenses at the sound of Kobra’s voice but draws his legs up close to his chest anyway. Part of him is amazed that he can manage his balance that well but the biggest part of him is hurting because can’t _possibly_ think he doesn’t do anything for this crew. 

Fucking _hell_ , the next time Poison yells at Ghoul for being lazy- whether they mean it or not- he’s going to kill them. 

“That makes me an asshole doesn’t it?” Ghoul grits out with a snort. “Wanting something to happen so I can prove I’m not jus’ a freeloader.”

“It doesn’t,” Kobra insists, wishing that he had the words to do this with as much meaning as he feels. “Ghoul we know that you would do anything for us. You don’t have to prove it.”

“But-”

Kobra shoots Ghoul a glare and he shuts his mouth quickly.

“You don’t have ‘t prove it,” He says sincerely, forcing himself to go slowly so he can do this. “But I _am_ thankful you gave that asshat what he deserved today. You didn’t have to do that but you did.”

Ghoul looks conflicted for a moment, mouth opening and closing like he can’t quite figure out what to say.

“But… but that shouldn’t mean Jet has ‘t heal every scratch.”

Kobra gives Ghoul a pointed look. They both know damn well that Jet will gladly heal a hangnail for them if they asked. He’s told Kobra before that he doesn’t like seeing any of them in pain, no matter how small.

‘Healing your knees isn’t going to hurt him, Ghoul.’

At last Ghoul sighs and drops his arms over his knees. 

“I know.”

‘Poison smashed their finger in a door last week,’ Kobra begins abruptly, making sure Ghoul is still looking. ‘They asked Jet to heal them and didn’t tell anyone.’

Ghoul snorts. He looks up at Kobra fully now, something close to a smile on his face. 

“How’d they manage to do that?”

‘Trying to talk to me and close the car door at the same time.’

Ghoul laughs more now, more of a giggle than anything. 

“Dumbass,” He says between laughs. “But I get your point I guess.”

‘Jet doesn’t mind. If he does-’

“Then he’d tell us,” Ghoul finishes for him.

Kobra nods. 

“Wanna come inside?” He asks softly, still signing even as he uses his voice. 

Ghoul glances past Kobra’s shoulders, out the open shed door as if debating it. 

“I wasn’t th’ nicest ‘t Poison earlier.”

‘They’ll be fine. They deserve it.’

“I kinda wanna talk to ‘em…” 

‘They’re laying down now but you can when they wake up.’

Ghoul debates it for another minute or two before standing quickly. Kobra follows suit, stretching and motioning for Ghoul to follow him inside. 

The two of them end up on the floor in the main dining area, Ghoul, freshly healed, wrapped around Kobra’s neck. He’s a tiny snake, much like he is as a person, and surprisingly light. 

He dozes happily as Kobra fiddles with a project, nearly giving Jet a heart attack when he comes through much later to check on them. 

In the morning, Kobra makes sure Jet and The Girl are in the kitchen with him while Ghoul knocks shyly on Poison’s door. The two of them end up talking for most of the morning and, by the following evening, Ghoul’s back to his usual self. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> I've been trying to have more of Ghoul using his powers lately so maybe they'll be more chapters with him doing it for fun/comfort rather than in a fight.   
> Also, I saw a post recently talking about how harming it is to have Jet, the only poc character in cannon, be largely used as the 'mom friend' in fics. And I agree that poc characters shouldn't be used solely to take care of the white characters.(i hc Ghoul as a poc as well but that's not the point). so I may begin going back and fixing some of the scenarios and maybe even deleting them because of how often I portray Jet taking care of everyone. I did want to say though, that I never intended it to be because he is a person of color. I just hc him as a caring, loving person who wants to take care of his family. But I do absolutely see how problematic this can be. So, if anyone has any advice, comments, or anything about this I am more than willing to listen. Please let me know if my portrayal of Jet has been on the more stereotypical side of things. But for the moment I am going to go back and review many of the posts I have in this series to fix instances where that may have been implied.   
> And I wanted to say as well, that in this chapter specifically, they talk about how Jet doesn't mind healing even the smallest of injuries. I only intended this to be spoken about in this chapter like it is, with Ghoul being reassured that jet doesn't mind, because Ghoul doesn't understand the whole Unconditional love thing very well. Jet does have a limit. If the others do something stupid that they knew better, he's not going to heal them. and I've tried to sort of show in other chapters that he leans on the others as well. They take care of each other. It's not one way or another. But like I said, I understand how even then it might still read at Jet being in this only to heal the others. I'm kinda bad at judging things like this, how they're being interpreted/what people will infer from reading it, and that's why I wanted to ask.   
> Thank you all in advance and I apologize for the rambling of this message.


End file.
